Klainelight
by paperstylehearts
Summary: "About three things I was absolutely positive: First, Blaine was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him." Exactly what you think it is. Just read. XxKlainexX
1. Chapter 1: First Sight

**Klainelight**

paperstylehearts

A/N: I don't own Twilight or Glee! But I was a huge fan of Twilight and am currently obsessed with Glee and like the saying goes: Fanfiction happens.

Chapter One - _**First Sight**_

It rained heavily on our last day in Ohio, the same day we held the funeral for my mother. It was nonstop, like the sky was crying that she was gone.

I supposed the rain was some sort of premonition that the months following would also be under a constant cloud of rain, not only because of how miserable Burt and I would be, but because of his decision to move to Forks, a tiny town in the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State.

Everything about our Lima home was too much for him to bear after mom's death. The only thing tying him to Lima was me but I couldn't bear to see him in so much pain so I had agreed to leave too. Burt however, wasn't convinced.

"Kurt," he said to me, "We don't have to go to Forks."

I felt guilty for even thinking of staying. How could I stay knowing that it was killing Burt to be in Lima? Of course, time supposedly healed all wounds and there was the off chance that Burt could meet someone else but still…

"I _want _to go," I lied. I wasn't convincing, though I had to pay attribute to my acting skills—or maybe perhaps to the fact that Burt overlooked it when I wasn't convincing because, quite simply, it was easier to.

We hugged tightly as long as was socially acceptable for a father to hug his son before it got too awkward and then rode the three hour fifty-seven minute flight to Forks. Flying wasn't my strong suit so I swallowed a couple of scripted pills and slept the whole way. Burt woke me gently when we landed in Port Angeles and I quickly stood up fearing for my Louis Vuitton suitcases and more importantly what was in them.

"Was it really necessary to pack half this stuff, Kurt?" Burt asked a little annoyed as he helped me load my suitcases into our awaiting taxi. "Did you leave _anything_ behind in Lima?"

"Only my entire summer wardrobe, Dad." I'd never call him Burt to his face. He noted my sarcasm and raised an eyebrow. I sighed and shotgun the front seat.

Forks had always been Burt's backup plan. While I understood his reasoning for wanting to leave Ohio, I never fully understood why he had chosen Forks. It was no secret I found it insufferable. I guess some paternal instinct in Burt encouraged him to make the transition smoother for me. He had already registered me for high school and more importantly was going to help me get a car.

"So, about that car I promised to help you with…" he announced as if reading my mind.

"Yes?" I asked, admittedly a bit too keen. I was a sixteen year old boy about to start anew at a different high school. There was no way I would be caught dead with my dad driving me in on my first day.

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy."

This looked promising. "Where did you find it?"

"Do you remember my friend Artie Black down at La Push?" La Push is the tiny Indian reservation on the coast.

"No."

"Well you should. You used to make mud pies with his son, David."

That would explain why I didn't remember him. I do a good job of blocking painful, unnecessary things from my memory.

Many years ago, when I had been a lot younger, we had come up here with mom on a holiday to specifically visit his friend Artie Black. His son Dave, who was around my age had come over for a play date. It was the day of the great exchange. I offered to share my porcelain tea set with him. He introduced me to the word fag. We compromised later by making mud pies, much to my dismay, but Burt never entirely reconciled with Artie after that. I wondered what softened him up.

"Artie's in a wheelchair now," Burt continued when I didn't respond.

Oh.

"He can't drive anymore so he offered to sell his truck to me real cheap."

"Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. If anything went wrong…"

He looked at me as if I had forgotten my own name. "Honestly, Kurt, have you forgotten what I do for a living? It's not like you'd need to worry about affording a mechanic! Besides, Artie's done a lot of work on the engine. And the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

Okay, he had me on that one. Burt would be running his mechanic business up here in Forks; if he trusted this 'thing' it would have to do. But…

"How cheap is cheap?" That was, after all, the part I couldn't compromise on.

"Well, kiddo, I kind of already bought it for you." Burt peeked sideways to glance at my expression.

A free truck? He really was taking the transition process to heart. "You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was saving up to buy myself a car."

"I know but now you can use that money for something else you like! Besides, I don't mind. The only thing I want is for you to be happy here. I know it was tough leaving everything behind." He wasn't looking at me when he said it but I knew he meant every word. I made sure I was looking at him though, when I spoke. I really didn't want him feeling bad or selfish about his decision.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I appreciate it a lot." I guess I'd be out of line to add that liking Forks would never be on my agenda. He didn't need to know. Besides, he had just handed me a _free_ truck. I didn't want be ungrateful especially under the circumstances.

Though my dislike for the town was limitless, Forks was beautiful, even I couldn't deny that. It was all so fresh and green but so… foreign. It just didn't feel like home.

Eventually we made it to our new place. It was a small, two-bedroom house that Burt had bought with my mother when they had first married. Even then, the idea of living in Forks was planted in Burt's mind. My truck was already waiting for me, parked out the front of the house. It was a faded dusty red color and while I wasn't much of a car person, I felt myself immediately warming to it.

It took three trips to get all my stuff upstairs and I declined any help from Burt. My room had a view of the backyard. It felt cozy in here with its wooden floor and light blue painted walls. My bed had already arrived and so had my desk with room for the Mac computer I had got for my last birthday.

I already missed my old en-suite bathroom. Here in Forks, I was bound to share with Burt. I had already worked out a schedule for the both of us so that we wouldn't clash.

As a result of the city's population Forks High School had very little students which meant all the kids here had grown up together. I would be labeled as 'that new kid from Ohio,' and wasn't looking forward to it. I wasn't down with labels.

Maybe, if I dressed like male teens my age preferred, I could work this to my advantage. But, I knew that would never happen. I would never swap my Marc Jacobs jacket for something off the rack at Wal-Mart. Physically, I'd never fit in either. I was pale with blue eyes; slender, but obviously not an athlete.

When I finished putting my clothes away in the old wardrobe Burt had bought for me, I took my bag of bathroom necessities and went to the communal bathroom to begin my moisturizing regime. I looked at my face in the mirror. Maybe it was the light, but my skin appeared to be suffering already.

As I faced my reflection in the mirror, I was forced to admit that I was lying to myself. It wasn't just physically that I'd never fit in. And if I had never fit in at my old school, what were my chances here?

I didn't have any friends at my old school; I'd never found anyone I could relate with. Maybe the truth was that I didn't relate well to people, period. Even though Burt and I got on really well, we were never on exactly the same page. I knew I saw the world differently to other people. But this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Or so Burt had told me when I had been sent home early after being locked in a janitor's closet for half an hour.

~.~

I awoke to thick fog greeting me outside my bedroom window. It was all I could see. I felt like I had been sent to prison after mom's death and Forks was the cage. You could never see the sky here.

After Burt wished me luck for school and left for his first day at the shop, I sat at the old square oak table and contemplated the serious redesigning the place needed. The chairs didn't match and the floor was made of checkered linoleum like something out of a seventies film. The only thing that had some sort of structure was the cabinets, painted a bright yellow. My mother had painted them herself in an attempt to bring sunshine into the house.

Over in the next room, our family room, a row of pictures stood above a fireplace. First a wedding picture of Burt and my mom, then one of the three of us in the hospital when I was born, followed by pictures of me throughout each year of school. Those weren't so embarrassing, I had never taken a bad photo in my life, but if I ever wanted to have anyone over, I'd have to see if Burt could relocate them.

It was impossible for Burt to stay in Lima because everything was too difficult after my mom. But it was also impossible to be in this house and not realize that he was never going to get over her. It made me uncomfortable.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I hastily zipped my parka and headed out. It had started to drizzle again.

Inside the truck, it was nice and dry. I was very surprised to see the radio worked but the music was extremely outdated. I just couldn't win. I sighed, put my iPod on speaker and sang along to the tune of Ms. Streisand.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been here before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. I parked in front of the first building I saw figuring I'd deal with parking regulations later.

The red haired woman in the school office looked up at me from her desk, "Can I help you?"

"I'm Kurt Swan," I introduced.

"Of course," she said, "I have your schedule right here." She handed me a map of the school and went through my classes with me. She smiled at me and hoped, like Burt, that I would like it here in Forks.

When I went back to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that none of the other cars were flashy either. Here, the nicest car was a shiny Volvo and it stood out.

I sat in my truck for few minutes while parked hoping to memorize the map so I wouldn't have to walk through the halls with it pressed to my face. The plan was to remain inconspicuous among my peers, the less attention I drew to myself the better. I didn't want to have to answer any awkward questions and I certainly didn't want a repeat of the torment I had suffered at McKinley. It was like I was given a second chance and _I_ wasn't going to waste it by repeating old mistakes and ending up with more bullies then I had vocal talent.

I was sent to the back of the room in my first class, which I was grateful for, as I took back the slip Mr. Mason my new teacher handed to me. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow they managed. I would have to endure it. This was only temporary. I would fly to New York in a couple of years and study at Juilliard and be out of Forks for good. My bright future was the only thing that kept me going.

When the bell rang, a young Asian male approached me. "You're Kurt Swan, aren't you?" He held his hand for me to shake.

"Yes," I nodded, unsure what to expect with his approach, but shook his hand anyway.

"Where's your next class?" he asked. "I'm heading towards building four, I could show you the way."

I was confused; why was he being so nice? I fumbled around in my bag for my timetable but I wasn't buying it.

"What's your angle?" I blurted out worrying how paranoid I sounded. I was met with curious wide eyes but he quickly looked at the floor, affirming my suspicions. "I got into trouble for break dancing on the cafeteria tables at lunch. Our principal said I could revoke my record if I upped my game and suggested I buddy with you. Do you mind? I promise I won't make it awkward. We only really need to hang around when teacher's are around."

So I was right. There was something in this for him. "Um, sure," I decided, shrugging my shoulders. We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I was getting paranoid again.

"So this must be really different from Ohio, huh?" he asked.

"Very." Was the small talk necessary?

"Does it rain a lot over there?"

"About thirty eight inches annually."

"Oooh that's what she said!" He held out his hand for me to high five but I stood there blankly.

I didn't get it.

He studied my face apprehensively and I sighed. Note to self: learn to understand Forks' sarcasm.

"Sorry, what did you say your name was?" I asked in a poor attempt to reignite the conversation.

"Mike Yorkie," he answered as we made our way to the south building by the gym. He walked me right to the door even though it was clearly marked. "Well, good luck," he said, "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded uncommitted; this was the form of sarcasm I understood.

The rest of the morning passed about in the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself.

After two classes, I started to recognize several faces. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I liked Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot. At least I never needed the map.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was shorter than me by several inches and I was extremely distracted by the hideous Grandma clothes she wore. I liked talking to her because I didn't have to say anything. She was able to string a whole conversation without stopping for breath and all I had to do was nod my head to show I was paying attention. I couldn't remember her name as she prattled on about teachers and classes but when she sat down at the table it was plastered all over her purple glittery star designed folder: Rachel Stanley.

We sat at the end of the table with a few of her friends she introduced me to. I forgot their names instantly though she was only sitting with three other people. The boy from English, Mike Yorkie, was one of them.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make conversation with Rachel Stanley and her curious friends, that I first saw them.

They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They seemed uninterested in everything else around them so it was safe to stare at them without meeting a mutually interested pair of eyes. But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention.

They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys one was muscular with incredible biceps and styling a seriously well cut black Mohawk. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular with blonde hair and full lips. The last boy was far by the most gorgeous. He was less bulky than the first two but had beautiful boy cut curly dark hair. They all looked like they could be in college or even like they could be teachers.

The two girls were total opposites. The taller fairer one could have been on the cover of Italian Vogue. She was the kind of girl that made everyone else around her take a hit on their self-esteem just by being in the same room as her. Her hair was long and golden and I wished I knew what product she was using. The last of them, the shortest girl was bigger than the rest but she was the only one smiling. She had a dark complexion and was—by far—dressed the best.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. They were all pale, paler than me and that was saying a lot. They all had very dark eyes despite their range in hair tones. They also had dark shadows under their eyes—purple shadows, almost like bruises. Yet their features were all insanely perfect.

But this was not why I couldn't look away.

I stared because their faces, so different, so similar, were all devastatingly, inhumanly beautiful. They were faces you only ever saw at New York Fashion Week. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful—but even I had to admit it was hard to keep my gaze off the curly dark haired boy.

They continued their disinterest of everyone and everything and I continued to stare. The dark girl eventually rose with her tray, completely untouched, and walked away with a strut that belonged on Project Runway. I was amazed by her attitude, the aura she held as she walked. She dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. My eyes quickly fell back to the others, who continued to sit unchanging.

"Who are _they_?" I asked Rachel Stanley.

As she looked up, she knew _exactly_ who I was talking about. She giggled, looking at the table like I still was.

"That's Blaine and Noah Cullen, though everyone calls him Puck, and Quinn and Sam Hale. The one who left was Mercedes Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath.

I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces.

"They are very… eye-catching." I said this knowing what an understatement it was.

"Yes," Rachel sighed almost with envy, "They're all _together_ too—Puck and Quinn, and Sam and Mercedes, I mean. And they _live_ together." Her voice was filled with some sort of judgment I felt so typical of her. But I had to be honest. Even in Lima, that would be considered controversial.

Rachel went on to say that the Cullens were all adopted by Dr. Cullen and his wife. Dr. Cullen was really young, in his twenties or early thirties. The Cullens looked a little old to be foster children but Sam and Quinn were Mrs. Cullen's nephew and niece, ("Well, _apparently_ or something like that!") and had been living with them since they were eight.

"That's kinda nice—for them to take care of all those kids like that when they're so young and everything."

"I guess so," Rachel admitted reluctantly, and I was under the impression that she was racking her brains for some way to upstage them, "Did I tell you I had two gay dads?" There was a certain competitive edge in her voice. "I think Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids," she added, as if it lessened their kindness.

Through the conversation, I learnt that they were newbies to Forks like me. They had moved down two years ago from Alaska. I felt a surge of pity and relief. Pity because, as beautiful as they were, they were all outsiders, clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here and certainly not the most interesting by any standard.

As I examined them, the youngest Cullen, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I quickly looked away, it seemed to me that his glance held some kind of unmet expectation.

"Which one is the boy with the dark curly hair?" I asked. I was looking at Rachel as I spoke but I could see him in the corner of my eye. I noticed he was still staring at me, not like the football team had when I had dressed as Lady Gaga once, but seemingly out of frustration. I looked down again.

"That's Blaine. He's gorgeous, of course, but none of the girls here stand a chance. He apparently doesn't date. My guess is he plays for the other team. I told you about my dads right? It would only be obvious that I have excellent gaydar…" She seemed jealous. I wonder when he'd turned her down.

I dared another glance at him. He wasn't looking at me anymore but he was smiling. He and his adopted family gently rose and left the table together. They were all very graceful—even the one with the Mohawk. Blaine Cullen didn't look at me again.

I sat at the table with Rachel and her friends longer than I would have if I had been sitting alone. I was determined not to be late to any class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances who took no offense that I had forgotten her name—Tina Weber, she kindly reintroduced—and I were scheduled for Biology II. She was incredibly shy and remained silent the whole way to the science room.

The lab tables were exactly how I remembered them back in Ohio. Here Tina parted with me to be seated near Mike, and as I glanced around the room, the only remaining single seat, was next to Blaine Cullen.

After Mr. Banner, my new teacher, had signed my slip, there was no guess to where I was heading. I made my way quietly to the back of the class and seated myself besides the curious boy who seemed intent not to look at me.

As I set my Biology book on the table I felt him grow rigid besides me. His hand immediately reached to his face as he covered his nose and mouth. I was wearing my favorite Calvin Klein spray today so unless he was allergic to that I found no reason for him to be lowering his senses. I turned my head from him, trying to pay attention to Mr. Banner.

The lecture was one that I had already studied so I found no point in taking notes. I noticed my neighbor was on the edge of his chair sitting as far away from me as possible. He was still covering his nose and mouth with his right hand; the opposite hand was clenched in a fist. He seemed very unsettled. The sleeves of his shirt only reached till his elbows and I took notice of his muscles. He wasn't as big as his Puck but he still had a set of arms on him.

This class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because it was the last period of the day or was it simply because Blaine never moved; his left fist was still clenched tightly almost as if he was in pain. It didn't even look like he was breathing. Was this normal behavior? Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe she had a reason to be resentful.

It couldn't have anything to do with me. He didn't even know my name.

I considered asking to borrow a pen from him or ask him a question about class. Anything to break the silence between us, but his dark coal eyes were filled with revulsion and I withdrew the proposal.

The bell rang loudly and I jumped, not because the shrilling noise had startled me but because Blaine Cullen had shot out of his seat like a bullet from a gun and was out the door before anyone else had even stood up.

I sat for a moment, staring at the classroom's exit. Blaine was so… _unfair._ I fought the urge to cry, which was an excellent talent to possess when you're an actor who needs to be able to cry on cue, but about the worst thing you could do to embarrass yourself when you're a teenage boy in a new school on his first day.

"Are you Kurt Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, brown haired boy with dimples smiling back at me. It was hard to be upset when you had someone like that smiling at you. He dressed a lot like Burt.

"I am," I confirmed, with a smile of my own.

"I'm Finn Newton."

"Hi, Finn."

"My girlfriend Rachel said I have to be nice to you because you're new and stuff. Do you need help finding your next class?"

Of course, she did. And of course he had a girlfriend.

"It's gym, actually. I think I'm good finding it." I wanted to be alone.

"Hey, what do you know, that's my next class too." He seemed thrilled though I couldn't see why. He made up for his lack of poor choice of girlfriend with the conversation we had on our way to gym. Like me, he had also lost a parent at a young age, his dad, and I was able to relate, finally. It turned out Finn was also in my English class. He was the nicest person I'd met all day.

"So, did you stab Blaine Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him like that before."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And apparently, that _wasn't_ Blaine's usual behavior.

"You mean the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked, trying to sound like I didn't know who or what he was talking about.

"Yeah. He looked like he was in pain or something."

"I don't know," I responded flatly, my mouth felt very dry, "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy," Finn added, "Even Rachel says so. Even if she hadn't told me about you, I'd still probably talk to you. You seem like a pretty chill guy."

"Thanks," I smiled. Why couldn't more guys be like him? He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my irritation.

When the final bell rang, I returned to the warm office to hand in my paperwork, almost immediately walking back out.

Blaine Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized his dark curly hair at once. I stood without breathing waiting against the back wall.

He was arguing with her in a whispered, attractive voice and I caught the gist of the conversation. He was trying to trade Biology to another time—any other time.

I couldn't believe that this was about me. Something had to have happened before I came in the room. He turned and faced me—his face was absurdly handsome—with piercing, hate-filled eyes. For an instant, I was reminded of the bullies at my old school, the ones who shoved me into lockers and I was scared. The look only lasted a second, but it chilled me more than the weather outside. He turned his gaze from me and swiftly exited the room.

I went to the desk, my head down the entire time. I handed my slips to the receptionist.

"How was everything today, sweetie?" she asked maternally.

"Fine," I lied, I had been doing a lot of that today. Like Burt had reacted before previously, he didn't look convinced.

When I reached my truck, I started the engine and drove home, fighting back tears the entire way there.

~.~

A/N: I realize that all I've done is re-write Twilight with Glee characters. But I'm not claiming ownership of anything! Except the idea to turn this into fan fiction. That's why it IS fan fiction. And a crossover. I like the idea and I'm sticking to it, but if you don't, by all means stop reading. And if you _do_ like it, please review! :)


	2. Chapter 2: Open Book

A/N: I almost didn't continue this! And then I thought heck, how could a thought ever possibly cross my mind? Love to you all xx

You know the drill: I don't own Twilight or Glee.

Chapter Two – _**Open Book**_

I didn't see Blaine Cullen at school at all the next day.

I walked into the cafeteria with Rachel feeling cheated that all I had to distract me from Blaine's absence was her idle chatter but I should have been grateful when even that was taken from me as her boyfriend Finn rudely interrupted us. I thought she would have said something—owing to the fact that he had interrupted her—but she seemed to lavish his attention.

I was terribly uncomfortable at the lunch table. I noticed across the room that all of Blaine's siblings were here except for him. It was hard, after that, to avoid diverting my focus from them. Especially when Rachel was still clearly entranced by Finn, and Mike Yorkie and Tina Weber were getting inappropriately cozy. I'd stare across the room in the hope that Blaine would eventually turn up and join his siblings… but a conscious nagging suspicion kept eating its way into every tunnel of my brain.

I told myself to stop being so egotistical—that _I_ wasn't the reason he wasn't here today. It was impossible to affect anyone that strongly. And yet I couldn't stop worrying that it was true. I'd hand over my entire Gaga shoe collection if there were any chance my suspicions were wrong about Blaine and that he'd be in Biology class at the end of lunch period.

He wasn't.

When the school day was finally done, and I had successfully managed to avoid anyone who could possibly find a reason to talk to me, I made my way to the parking lot. I sorted through the glove box till I found what I was looking for.

I'd never been too much of a fan of Burt's cooking. He'd try and prepare something new every now and again but eventually flake out voluntarily because of my culinary expertise. So once I'd located my grocery list, I was off to the Thriftway.

I took notice of the two Cullens and the Hale twins as my truck lay in school traffic. They were getting into their car—the shiny new Volvo, I should've known. I was surprised to see that while Mercedes had dressed best yesterday, all their clothes screamed designer origin. But with their looks, they could have worn potato sacks and pulled it off.

The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south off the highway. It was nice to be in the supermarket; I had a feeling this was the most regular shopping experience I'd have while in Forks. It was also familiar. Though Burt always insisted he come, I'd done our shopping on my own in Lima too.

Our pantry was empty so when I arrived home it was almost too easy to put everything away. With the rain came the cold so I decided a soup would be most ideal for tonight. It was an easy French recipe I had learned out of one of the several cooking books I owned.

"Kurt?" my father called out, as the smell wavered through to the front door when he arrived that night.

"Hey, Dad. How was work?"

"It was great. People here in Forks might not be used to my services but they're still keen as ever to have me tinkering with their cars." He hung up his hat and jacket and washed his hands at the sink. When I was younger he used to get me to 'help' him tinker with his cars but after realizing that all I would ever be comfortable doing was to stand far back and watch while flipping through mom's gossip magazines, he'd stop asking me to come.

"What's for dinner?" he asked standing close behind me to smell the cooking better. He hadn't seemed to notice I was wearing mom's apron yet. Or maybe he had and it was just one of those things he chose to overlook with me because it was easier to.

"Citrouille Soupe de Haricot Noire la Martinique."

He took a while to respond. "So—that's some kind of soup, right?" He was clearly no expert of the French language. I raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say it didn't matter. "Well, whatever it is, it smells delicious. Even if it's made out of fish heads and egg shells."

I paused the stirring to give him a look that clearly meant I thought he was derailing a bit. "Relax," I said, though a smile made its way across my face, "It's pumpkin and black bean soup. A recipe from my favorite French culinary expert, Martinique."

Burt offered a small smile back and patted my shoulder gently before casually sliding into the TV room while I continued cooking. Fifteen minutes later, I heard him setting the table and we sat down to eat in silence. It wasn't awkward. I did the talking most nights (or in general, period) but I was quiet tonight which Burt knew meant he'd have to start the conversation.

"So, how was school? Have you made any friends?" He was already helping himself to seconds.

"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Rachel. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Finn, who's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception.

"That must be Finn Newton. It'd do you some good being his friend; he lost a parent young too. His mom now owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. She seems really nice." He paused for a moment and shook his head with a smile. "Carole makes a good living for the two of them off all the backpackers that come through here. She cares a lot about her son."

"You seem to know a bit about her," I hinted cheekily, though I wasn't pushing any boundaries, I knew where the line was with Burt. After a moment's hesitation I asked, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about… the Cullen family?"

"Wait, Dr. Cullen's family? Sure I do. He works at Forks Hospital, treated Artie after his accident. Dr. Cullen's a great man. He could choose to work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he makes here. Everyone's after a surgeon like that."

"His kids… they seem a little different."

Burt surprised me when he suddenly stopped eating. The look on his face was one of concern. "Different, how?"

I brushed it away, "They seemed nice enough to me. It's just they kept to themselves. They're also all… attractive."

Burt laughed, taking the bowl to his mouth to finish his soup, "You should see the doctor! It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work when he's around."

We fell back into silence as we both finished eating. Burt cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV and after I had finished up I decided to join him.

"No homework tonight, kiddo?" he asked, eyes never moving from the TV set.

"No," I answered, "Lucky me, huh? Does that mean we get to watch Dancing with the Stars tonight?"

"_You_ can! I might miss it though." He paused for a second, eyes slowly falling from the TV but they moved to his palms; he still, for some reason, couldn't quite meet my eye. "I may not have acknowledged it but I picked up your cheek at dinner tonight. I _do_ know quite a bit about Carole Newton." His voice became a whisper, "And… I'd like to know more."

Oh. Was he asking me permission? He certainly didn't need to. "Dad… Dad, that's great!" I smiled, hoping I looked genuine because it was only two days ago that I feared he might never get over mom. "You don't need my consent to date again!"

"Good," Burt nodded, "Because I was planning to see her tonight." He was already getting up from the couch.

"You're moving fast aren't you?" I winked but he tussled my hair, (knowing that I'd hate it), and reached for his jacket from the coat stand. "Do me a favor, Kurt. Record that dancing program you like so much. I voted last night and I want to make sure Kate doesn't get sent home."

~.~

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes and not having to pack extra clothes in my back in fear of being slushied. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name almost all the students at school. Rachel had learned of my countertenor talents and suggested we have a diva-off in the school cafeteria when I pushed her buttons by telling her I could outdo her in a performance of _Wicked's_ "Defying Gravity."

But even that wasn't enough to distract me from the fact that Blaine Cullen hadn't come back to school.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. I was seriously contemplating going up to one of them, most likely Mercedes as she still by far looked the friendliest, and ask them how Blaine was doing. But like a coward, I sat with Rachel and tried to partake in her and her friend's conversations. They mostly revolved around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Finn was organizing. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more because of the fact that I had promised Burt I would make every attempt to get along with Finn as he continued to visit Carole almost every night.

By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Blaine would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of school. I tried not to think about him, but I couldn't totally suppress the worry that I was responsible for his continued absence, ridiculous as it seemed.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Burt, who was usually home on weekends, spent most of that time at work in the shop instead. I had the house to myself and used the opportunity to clean and get a head start in my homework after which followed a Julie Andrews marathon.

Monday morning was incredibly cold but at least it wasn't raining. In English, Finn took his accustomed seat by my side. We talked about our parent's recent late night rendezvous and joked about how we could be brother's one day. All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable than I had expected to feel here.

When we walked out of class, we were encompassed by whisper white flakes of undeniable snow. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. "Wow, it's snowing!" Finn stated claiming the obvious. "Does it snow where you're from?"

"You mean in Ohio?"

"Oh. Right. I forgot you moved from interstate. Sorry dude, you come across to me like you're an exchange student from France."

This surprised me. Here I was trying to fly under the radar and ever oblivious Finn looked like he was figuring me out already. Like I did with most uncomfortable situations, I brushed away the notion. "Finn, you do realize it snows in France too?"

"Sure I knew. I just forgot."

I laughed. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of Finn's head. I had my bets on Mike Yorkie, who was running haphazardly towards the wrong direction of his next class. Finn had the same idea. He slowly began compiling a pile of white mush.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I kept walking as I spoke. "Once things turn into mode snow ball fight I take stage exit left."

He just nodded, his eyes on Mike's retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut. Sure, it was drier than rain—until it melted all over your Valentino raincoat.

I walked into the cafeteria with Rachel, arguing a fine debate that I could indeed hit a high F all the while using her overly accessorized purple binder as a shield from the continuing snow ball fights. Rachel thought I was hilarious but something about my expression kept her from throwing a snowball at me herself.

Finn caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing with ice melting in his hair. He and Rachel were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got into line to buy food. I glanced toward the Cullen's table out of habit more than anything. And then I froze where I stood. There were five people at the table.

Rachel pulled on my arm. "Hello? Kurt? What do you want?"

I looked down. I could feel my legs starting to shake. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself. I hadn't done anything wrong.

"What's with Kurt?" Finn asked Rachel.

"Nothing," I quickly answered, "I'll just get my latte to go." I caught up to the end of the line.

"Aren't you hungry?" Rachel asked.

"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor. I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on my feet.

I took sips of my coffee slowly, my stomach churning. Twice Finn asked, with unnecessary concern, how I was feeling. I told him it was nothing but was seriously contemplating playing it up and skipping class to visit the school nurse. But that was ridiculous. I shouldn't have to run away.

I decided to allow myself _one_ glance at the Cullen table. If he was glaring at me, I would skip Bio, like the coward I was.

I kept my head down and peeked at them from the corner of my eye, lifting my head just a little.

They were laughing. Blaine and Sam had their hair dripping entirely with snow and even Puck's stylish Mohawk looked a little less rigid. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else—only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us.

But I couldn't stop staring at Blaine. Aside from his more relaxed and playful composure he had magically conjured today, something else was different.

"Kurt, what are you staring at?" Rachel intruded, her eyes following my stare.

At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine. I quickly dropped my gaze but I was sure that in the instant our eyes had met, that he hadn't look nearly as intimidating as the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious, in an unsatisfied sort of way.

"Oh my God!" Rachel said, nudging me harder than I think she intended to. "Blaine Cullen is staring at you." She giggled like I had the first time I had seen Patrick Swayze shirtless in Ghost.

"Does he look… angry at all?" I couldn't help asking.

"No," she said, scrunching her face in confusion, "Why would he be?"

"I don't think he likes me," I confided. I still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm.

"The Cullens don't like anybody… well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them, as in my case. But, Blaine is _still_ staring at you!"

"Can you please stop staring back?" I hissed.

She giggled again but dropped her gaze. I was considering contemplating violence if she had resisted.

Finn interrupted us then—he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Rachel agreed enthusiastically even though she had mutually bitched with me about how "ew" snow was on the way into lunch. The way she looked at Finn suggested she'd be up for anything he recommended. I didn't confirm his proposal. I just wanted to hide in my truck until the entire school day was over.

I decided I would keep the word I made to myself and not look up at the Cullen's again since I had used my one allowance to already. Since Rachel had said he hadn't looked angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did nervous little flips at the thought of sitting next to him again.

I didn't really want to walk with Finn to class as per usual routine—he seemed to be a popular target for snowball snipers—but lady luck was on my side as I heard everyone besides me groan in unison.

It had started raining, washing all traces of the snow away. I was secretly pleased. Finn kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

I reached the classroom a few minutes early and as a result my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. The class was already buzzing in conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling absentmindedly on the back of my notebook.

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing.

"Hello," said a quiet, musical voice.

I looked up, stunned that he was speaking to me. He was still sitting as far away from me as possible but his chair was angled towards me. His curly boyish hair was wet and disheveled but even so he looked like an Armani catalogue model. His dazzling face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his flawless lips. But his eyes were careful.

"My name is Blaine Cullen," he continued, "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Kurt Hummel."

My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing in my head? He was perfectly polite now. He was waiting for me to speak but everything I could come up with just sounded so unconventional.

"H-how do you know my previous surname?" I stammered.

He laughed; it was soft and enchanting like Prince Eric from Disney's The Little Mermaid. "I apologize," he said, "You prefer Swan?"

"It's not that. I don't have anything against my father's name. I just decided to take my mom's instead after she—." I stopped; I didn't know if I was ready to tell him that just yet.

"Okay." He let it drop. I looked away awkwardly. With very appropriate timing, Mr. Banner started class. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Get started," he commanded.

"I find it only fair to let you start after my shameful introduction." Blaine offered the microscope towards me. I was so caught off by his smile I probably had him wondering if I was mentally competent.

"Or I could go if you wish." The smile faded and I quickly found my way back to reality.

"No," I said, embarrassed at how red I must look, "I'll go ahead."

I was showing off, just a little. I'd already down this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. This should be easy. My assessment was confident, "Prophase."

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked. As I began to remove the slide, his hand caught mine to stop me. His fingers were ice-cold, presumptuously from the snowball fight he'd been in previously. But that wasn't why I had recoiled so quickly. The moment we touched I'd felt as if an electric jolt had passed through our skin simultaneously.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately, but he continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, slightly in awe of our connection, as he examined the slide for an even shorter period than I had.

He agreed with me and we went back and forth with the next slides. I tried to catch him out but he never made any mistakes, was always right with every analysis. I let him write down the answers taking note of his beautifully cursive handwriting fearing that despite my writing being clear and concise, it would still look too messy compared to his. I was also quick to note how careful he was not to touch my skin again.

We were finished before anyone else was even close. I could see Finn struggling back and forth between slides even though his partner was hiding their book under the table.

Finishing so early left me with nothing to do but try not to look at Blaine… unsuccessfully. I glanced up and he was staring right back at me. Suddenly, I noticed the delicate difference in his features.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out, without thinking.

"…No."

"Oh," I mumbled, "I thought there was something different about your eyes."

He shrugged, and looked away.

In fact, I was sure there was something different. Today his eyes were a warm honey color and last time they had appeared night sky black. I vividly remembered them being dark; they had outstandingly contrasted with his incredibly pale skin.

Why on Earth would he be lying about it? Maybe, Forks was driving me crazier than I had led myself to believe.

Mr. Banner came round to our table to see why we weren't working then took note of our answer sheet, making sure to confirm we had finished correctly. When he found there had been no errors made he was quick to assume that Blaine had completed the task on his own. But Blaine came to my defense, insisting—and rightfully so—that I had in fact done most of the work. I quickly added that I had taken an AP class back in Lima and Mr. Banner smiled saying it was a good thing we were lab partners.

He walked away, mumbling something else under his breath, and I began doodling on the back of my notebook again.

"So…" Blaine started and I got the impression he was trying to make small talk, "You should probably talk to the school office about getting your name changed. It's still Hummel all over the records."

"Is that how you came by my name? Snooping through the school records?"

He seemed fascinated by my questions, though I could not place why. I thought I made it obvious that I wanted the conversation dropped. Blaine continued, "I may have paid attention during role call the one time it slipped out by accident. You answered to the name so I only assumed it was yours and by my calculations only a recent change if you did not pick up on the error yourself."

I couldn't remember any of the teachers calling me Kurt Hummel though I didn't have any evidence that had not had happened. "It's definitely Swan. And I still answer to Hummel because that is still my name."

"Why did you change it, then?"

So maybe I hadn't been obvious when I had given the impression that I did not want to talk about this. "It's…complicated." I offered.

"I think I can keep up," he pressed. I paused for a long moment and then made the mistake of meeting his eyes. I was distracted by the color again and so I answered without thinking.

"My mother died and I felt it necessary to keep her name." I said.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said his head down, "But I can understand why you made that choice." His voice sounded sympathetic. "How long has she been gone?"

"Right before we moved to Forks." My voice sounded sad, even by my standard. This was not something I planned to talk about so soon.

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused.

"You have no idea," I muttered darkly, though truthfully it wasn't all bad.

"Why didn't you stay there?"

I couldn't comprehend why he was so interested, but the way his eyes penetrated through me, as though my jaded life story was somehow important…

"It was my Dad's decision. He always planned for us to move to Forks."

"Your father forced you to move when she died." He said it as an assumption not a question. I had to admit it bugged me.

"I wasn't _forced_. Burt just couldn't bear being in Lima anymore without her. I could see how unhappy he was." I sighed. Why was I explaining this to him? He continued to gaze at me with curiosity.

"But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.

"And?" I challenged.

"It just doesn't seem very fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were intense.

I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? _Life_ isn't fair."

"Actually I believe I have heard that somewhere before…" he added somewhat sarcastically.

He was still looking at me, in _that_ way, so I was obligated to say something, "So that's all, really."

He studied me intently, speaking slowly, "You put on a good show. But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

Wait… what exactly did he think I was hiding? What was he trying to say? Could Rachel's gossip be true? Maybe Blaine did 'bat for the other team.' That would justify why he could throw around a comment like that. Assume something that secret about me when I had not even told Burt yet.

"Am I wrong?" he asked.

I tried to ignore him.

"I didn't think so," he murmured smugly.

"Why does it matter to _you_?" I asked, irritated. I locked my gaze to his as if daring him to clear the gossip Rachel was spreading.

"That's a very good question," he muttered, so quietly that I wondered if he was talking to himself. I waited for him to continue but eventually realized that was the only answer I was going to get. I sighed.

"Am I annoying you?" He asked. There was something about his tone that suggested he was slightly amused.

I looked at him, distracted once again by the mystery of his eyes which led me to speak again without thinking. "Not exactly. I'm more annoyed at myself. For you to say something like that just solidifies the reason my mom called me her open book." I finished my answer with a frown.

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that I'd said and he'd guessed, he sounded genuine.

"You must usually read well then," I replied.

"Usually." He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfect, ultra-white teeth.

My thoughts were unmanageable through the rest of class. They kept creeping up on me taking control and I could not concentrate on anything else but the beautiful boy beside me who had been so intrigued by my tragic life. When the bell finally rang, Blaine rushed as swiftly and gracefully from the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after him in amazement.

Finn made his way to join me as I gathered all my books. "Could that lesson have been any more difficult?" he whined. "Every slide looked exactly the same. Lucky you had Blaine as a partner."

"I didn't need him," I said, a little stung with Finn's assumption. "I wasn't having trouble identifying any of it." When Finn's feelings looked hurt, I realized I may have unconsciously come off a tad arrogant so I promptly added that I had done the class before. He was quick to seem nonchalant about the whole thing. "So, Blaine seemed friendly enough today." I wondered if his nonchalance had something to do with the fact that Carole was encouraging him to be friendly with me as much as Burt was encouraging me to be friendly with him.

I shrugged, slipping into my Valentino, "Wonder what was up with him Monday." I tried to sound blasé about the whole thing.

I offered Finn a lift home but Rachel was already driving him over to the store to help Carole, so I was alone when I reached my truck after school. I was still fazed by everything in Biology so when I pulled the vehicle into reverse I almost hit a rusty Toyota Corolla. Embarrassed, I turned my head in all directions to make sure there were no witnesses to my clumsiness but I was still all alone.

As I drove forward, with much more success this time, I noticed the silver Volvo. I didn't bother to look over and make idle chat but I could have sworn from peripheral vision that I had seen him laughing.


	3. Chapter 3: Phenomenon

A/N: Oh you guys! The response for this has been incredible! To think no one would like this… By the way, reviews are like _crack_ to me. There is nothing better than waking up to my iPhone 4 email inbox and seeing the words [Review Alert].

Disclaimer as below:

**Things I own: **Glee Season 1 on DVD, Volumes 1 & 2, a new mini curling iron and a currently old ticket to the mind-blowing Miley Cyrus concert I attended Sunday night.

**Things I don't own: **Fox 8's Glee or Stephenie Meyer's Twilight. *sigh*

Chapter Three – _**Phenomenon **_

When I woke up the next morning, something was different. Calll Oprah, there was no fog today! I jumped out of bed and ran to my window only to my sheer disappointment: it had clearly been snowing all of last night.

Burt had already left for work by the time I got downstairs. He'd left me lunch money stuck on the fridge next to a Crazy Booth photo strip of him and Carole. He was really falling head over heels for her.

I finished breakfast surprisingly fast that morning. Though I didn't want to admit it, it probably had something to do with the fact that I was eager to get to school to see Blaine Cullen. And that was very, very stupid.

So what if he didn't date any of the girls at Forks? I don't care how good Rachel thought her gaydar was I was not going to assume anything about anyone—especially when it risked my heart. Besides, I should be avoiding him at all costs after my unnecessary teenage babbling yesterday. And I was suspicious of him; why should he lie about his eyes? I was so frightened of being rejected by this boy but at the same time tongue-tied over his perfect face. But I was well aware that I had no chance. So I shouldn't be at all anxious to see him today.

Driving to school, I distracted myself from my speculations about Blaine Cullen by thinking about Finn and Mike, and the obvious difference in how teenage boys treated me here. I was sure I looked and acted no different than I had in Lima. Maybe it was because the boys back there were a bunch of Neanderthals compared to here with the well-raised gentleman of Forks. Perhaps I was a novelty, where novelties here were few and in between, or maybe everyone was just plainly indifferent. That or my outstanding advanced fashionista attitude cast me entirely into an entity of my own where I not only knew I was superior to them but that they knew it too. And it was about freaking time.

My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to risk having an accident on Main Street.

When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I carefully walked to the back of my truck to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. No doubt Burt had risen who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. It was just like him to take care of me and it confirmed my beliefs—that I was just so lucky to have him as my dad.

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound.

It was a high-pitched screech, the kind you heard in action movies during car chases, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled.

I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, like I daydreamed would happen in this scenario. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once.

Blaine Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. He wasn't the only one but his face stood out, at that moment the only face I cared to see. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of the truck, and by any deity that could possibly exist out there, my life was screwed; I was standing between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I had calculated. My head suddenly hit the floor and I felt something cold and solid pinning me down. I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked next to. But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else because the blue van was still spinning out of control and was about to collide with me—again.

I was aware that someone was with me, only because his aura was impossible not to recognize. Two long, white hands shot out protectively in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face. Then his hands move so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a rag doll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. As I heard the van settle, glass popped all over the asphalt around me, exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been.

It was absolutely silent for one extremely long second. The next thing I knew everyone was screaming. I could hear several people shouting my name. But above it all, I could hear Blaine's low, frantic voice in my ear.

"Kurt? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." My voice sounded strange; squeaky, even. I tried to sit up but realized he was holding my body in an iron grasp.

"Be careful," he warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

"Ow," I said, surprised. A throbbing ache started to spread just above my left ear and I instinctively reached for my head.

"That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was suppressing laughter.

"How in the…" I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. "How did you get over here so fast?"

"I was standing right next to you, Kurt," he said, his tone serious again.

I turned to sit up and he gently released me sliding as far away from me as he could in the limited space. I looked at his concerned, innocent expression and was disoriented again by the glow of his gold eyes. I lost all train of thought. What was I asking him again?

"Get Brittany out of the van!" someone shouted breaking me out of my reverie. There were a number of people around us. I attempted to stand but Blaine's cold hand pushed my shoulder down. I suddenly remembered what I'd been thinking.

"You were over there! You were by your car!"

His expression turned hard, "No, I wasn't."

"I _saw_ you." All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voice of adults arriving on the scene. But I was not going to lose this argument with Blaine; I was right and he was damn sure going to admit it.

"Kurt, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." He bore his eyes into mine as if trying to communicate something crucial. I wasn't buying it.

"No." I said firmly. "Tell me the truth."

The gold in his eyes seemed to blaze pleadingly, "Please, Kurt."

"Why?" I demanded.

"Trust me," he pleaded again, his soft voice was overwhelming. I knew we didn't have time for this. I could hear ambulance sirens already.

"Will you promise to explain _everything_ to me later?"

"Fine," he snapped, abruptly exasperated.

"Fine." I repeated angrily.

I don't know how Blaine managed to avoid his stretcher, but the entire school watched as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Blaine, the traitor, not only got to sit up the front but told them I had hit my head and probably had a concussion.

Then, through the midst of the crowd, I saw my worried, tear-filled Dad arrive just before they were ready to close the doors and drive off.

"Stop!" I yelled desperately, "That's my Dad!"

"Kurt!" he cried anxiously, placing both his hands on each of my shoulders and staring into my eyes. His were red already.

"I'm fine, Dad," I sighed, "There's nothing wrong with me, not even a scratch." The EMT had closed the door on the ambulance and Burt turned to him for a second opinion. While they discussed my status, I thought of Blaine. The tan car I had parked next to had a dent in it fitted for the contours of his shoulders as if he'd braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame… and that wasn't the only thing that was off.

His family, showed no hint of concern for his safety. If anything they seemed disappointed and angry but that didn't make any sense. I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen—a solution that excluded the possibility that I was clinically insane.

When we reached the hospital, Blaine glided his way through the entrance doors where no one paid him the slightest attention. Burt helped me out of the ambulance as if I had somehow forgotten the ability to walk even though I insisted with him that I was okay. They led us to the emergency room and told Burt he'd have to wait outside. A nurse approached me putting a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue.

Meanwhile, another stretcher was brought by hospital personnel to the bed besides me. I recognized Brittany Crowley, a daft blonde ditzy sort of girl, who thought the square root of pi was rainbows. There were bloodstained bandages around her head and she looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But she was staring anxiously at me.

"Kurt, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Brittany. You on the other hand don't look so good. Are you all right?" As we spoke, nurses began unwinding her soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallows slices all over her forehead and left cheek. My heart clenched.

"I thought I was going to kill you! I couldn't remember how to slow down and the van was going so fast and the ice was just so mean…" She flinched as one nurse started dabbing her face.

"Don't worry about it; you missed me."

"How did you get out of the way so fast? Are you a magician? One moment you were there, and the next you were gone…"

"Umm… Blaine pulled me out of the way."

She looked confused, "Who?"

"Blaine Cullen—he was standing next to me." I hoped my acting skills were paying off and that I sounded convincing.

"I don't remember him… Is he like, a magician too, but invisible?"

"No, Brit, none of us our magicians. And Blaine's not invisible. He should be here, somewhere."

What had happened? I knew I wasn't crazy. There was just no way to explain what I'd seen. They wheeled me away then to X-ray my head. I told them I was fine and I was right damn it. I asked if I could leave but the nurse insisted I needed clearance from a doctor. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting, irritated by Brittany's theories, ("Suppose Blaine really does know magic?"), and her promises to make it up to me. ("It's okay Kurt, I've made out with like every guy in the school and making out with me—cheers every guy up. I'm sure we can arrange something.") True I hadn't exactly said anything but I thought even to Brittany it would be obvious that was never going to happen. But with her IQ, it faired to reason she why she would be suggesting such a thing with me. I tried to convince her that I was fine, and finally closed my eyes to ignore her.

"Is he sleeping?" a familiar musical voice asked. My eyes flew open. Blaine was standing at the end of my bed. I glared at him.

"Hey person I don't know, I'm really sorry—" Brittany began.

"The name's Blaine and really, don't worry about it," he said, flashing his brilliant teeth. He moved to sit on the edge of her bed, facing me. He was smiling again.

"So, what did the screen tests show?" he asked me.

"Like I suspected, there's nothing wrong at all, but they won't let me go," I complained, "How come you're not strapped in like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," he answered mysteriously.

I didn't have time to question him; a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young, his curly honey hair was cut perfectly handsome, and he looked like a poster boy for Broadway. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Burt's description, this had to be Blaine's father.

"I'm Dr. Will Cullen, Mr. Swan," he said in a remarkably attractive voice, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped. He walked to the light-board on the wall over my head, and turned it on. "Your X-rays look good," he said, "Does your head hurt?"

"No, it's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing a scowl in Blaine's direction. The doctor's cool fingers inspected my skull lightly and I could not stop myself when he touched the more tender spot on my head where I had landed. I flinched.

"Did that hurt?" he asked, concerned.

"I've had worse," I admitted, remembering the time I had been shoved into a locker so hard I'd bruised a small part of the side of my head.

"Your father is in the waiting room—you can go home with him now. But if you feel dizzy or are noticing any trouble with your eyesight, come back and see me right away."

"What about school?" I asked. I could just imagine Burt at home looking after me, stressing about his shop without him there. I didn't want to have to make him take the day off too.

"Maybe you should just take it easy today."

I glanced at Blaine, "Does _he_ get to go to school?"

"There's no need," Blaine smirked, "Most of the school seems to be in the waiting room."

Wow, really? That didn't sound too good. Then again, there weren't a lot of students at Forks compared to the rest of the state. Dr. Cullen took one more look at my head and suggested Tylenol for the pain but as I got up, I reached to touch my head instinctively, and he looked concerned. "You were extremely lucky today," he said, signing my chart.

"Yes, I was lucky, I suppose. Lucky that Blaine happened to be standing right next to me." Dr. Cullen seemed to notice my sarcasm because for the most fleeting of seconds I saw him exchange a quick glance with Blaine. Then he nodded and turned to Brittany. I knew it… whatever Blaine was hiding, Dr. Cullen was in on it.

Brittany didn't look like she was going to be released as easily. As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I rounded on Blaine. "You owe me an explanation!" I hissed under my breath.

"Your father is waiting for you," he said, taking a step back from me.

"I'd like to speak to you alone first if you don't mind!" I pressed. Blaine turned on his heel and strode out of the room. I almost had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned a corner in a short hallway, he spun around to face me.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were very cold.

His unfriendliness intimidated me but I was not going to let this go. "You promised you would explain everything. So, tell me."

"I saved your life. That's all there is to tell."

I rolled my eyes; now I was the one annoyed, "Don't try to brush this off. You _promised_."

"Kurt, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." His tone was cutting.

My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at him. "There's nothing wrong with my head!"

He glared back, "What do you want from me, Kurt?"

"I want to know the truth!" I said, trying very hard not to raise my voice, "I want to know why I'm lying for you!"

"What do you _think_ happened?" he snapped.

It came out in a rush. "All I know is that one minute you were four cars away from me—don't deny it, even Brittany doesn't remember seeing you—and the next the van should have smashed me, but you were holding it up…" I could hear how crazy I sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so mad at this point that I didn't even care. "Don't deny anything; I just saw the way your dad looked at you back in there."

Blaine was staring at me in mock disbelief. But there was something in his eyes that looked defensive. "Listen to yourself. You're trying to say that I lifted a van off you?" The way he questioned me was the same way a highly skilled actor delivers a line. I should know only too well. I nodded.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice was softer but borderline condescending.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word carefully, slowly, trying to calm my rising anger.

"Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," I insisted, "I don't like to lie—and I don't believe in calling out on anyone either—but there better be a good reason I'm doing it."

"Can't you just thank me and drop the whole thing?"

"Thank you," I answered sarcastically, "But I ain't dropping anything."

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?"

I shook my head, tasting triumph.

"Well… in that case, I hope you enjoy disappointment."

He turned to walk away but I let my guard down and called out after him. "Why did you even bother?" He stopped walking, and for a brief moment I sensed something unexpectedly vulnerable. Blaine turned his head, ever so slightly.

"I don't know," he whispered. And then he turned his back to me once more and walked away.

I was so angry; it took me a few minutes until I could move. I finally managed to make my way to the exit at the end of the hallway.

The waiting room wasn't as unpleasant as I'd imagined. Finn, Rachel, Mike and Tina were all waiting with Burt who rushed to my side and hugged me tightly.

"I'm okay, Dad," I assured him; we both had a thing for hospitals—in that we hated them.

"What did the doctor say?" he asked gently.

"I saw Dr. Cullen. You were right about him, Dad, I can see why even the nurses faint. Anyways, he said I should go home and take it easy."

I bid farewell to my friends after promising them I was okay and Burt led me outside to his car.

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Burt was there. I was positive that Blaine's defensive behavior in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still couldn't believe I'd witnessed. When we go to the house, Burt finally spoke.

"I'm just going to go call Carole. I told her what happened and I promised to let her know how you were."

"Sure thing, Dad."

"Do you want to go lie down for a bit?"

I nodded and headed for my room consumed by the mystery Blaine presented. And more than a little obsessed with Blaine himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. This had happened before; I'd crushed on a boy at my old school only to be the recipient of a broken heart. And I felt there was so much more to lose with Blaine at stake.

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Burt had created a packet macaroni and cheese and though it hadn't tasted half bad I wasn't very hungry despite having not eaten much at all today. I swallowed two Tylenol whole and they helped as I drifted off to sleep, the slight pain in my head easing.

That was the first night I dreamed of Blaine Cullen.


	4. Chapter 4: Invitations

A/N: OMG Thank you!… you guys are amazing. There is _still_ nothing better than the words [Review Alert]… *hint*hint*

Disclaimer: Sadly, still don't own Glee or Twilight. But I do have a lovely gLee charm bracelet which has clearly been overworn; new gLee t-shirts from my lovable momma, a new baby nephew!(squeal!), and a funky array of new gLee memorabilia…

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><p><span>Chapter Four – <span>_**Invitations **_

In my dream, I was running out onto the football field of my old school only it was very dark. Blaine stood at the end of the field, a mysterious radiating light surrounding him, but the faster I tried to reach him, the further he appeared to be. The bullies of my old school stood in the stands pointing and jeering but what disturbed me the most was the lone figure of my father, in the front row seats, his head lowered, shaking with sadness and disappointment.

Troubled, I woke in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. It wasn't hard to decipher the dream. A nightmare more like it, based on the fact that I was crushing on Blaine—hard, if I was being honest to myself—but I was even more petrified of being caught out about my feelings… or worse have my father discovering the truth about my sexuality. I wasn't quite ready to tell him just yet.

After that, Blaine was in my dreams nearly every night, but always on the side-lines, never quite within my reach.

To make things even tougher to deal with, when I returned to school I found myself the center of Brittany Crowley's attention. She was making everything impossible, following me around, obsessed with making amends to me somehow. I tried to convince her that what I wanted more than anything else was for her to forget all about it—especially because nothing had actually happened to me—but her IQ was so low I'd have better luck talking to a stuffed llama. She even began sitting at our lunch table. Finn and Mike were friendly to her so I'd have no luck in her short term appearance. (I had some hope however, in the fact that their friendliness would be short-lived though with the way Rachel and Tina reacted to the boy's attention to her).

No one seemed concerned about Blaine, though I explained over and over that he was the hero—how he had pulled me out of the way and had nearly been crushed, too. I tried to be convincing, acting the Lois Lane part to the Superman character. Rachel, Finn, Mike, Tina, and everyone else always commented that they hadn't even seen him till the van was pulled away.

I wondered to myself why no one else had seen him standing so far away, before he was suddenly, impossibly saving my life. With chagrin, I realized the probable cause—no one else seemed to care nearly as much about Blaine as I was (dangerously allowing) myself to care. No one was as aware of him as I was.

The Cullens and the Hales continued to sit at their same table as always, not eating, talking only amongst themselves. None of them, especially Blaine, glanced my way anymore.

When he sat next to me in class, he totally ignored me. It was as if he was purposely neglecting the fact that I was even sitting next to him. Only when his fists would ball up in anger every so often did I wonder if he was quite as oblivious as he appeared. It left me thinking—was Blaine starting to wish he had never saved my life?

I really wanted to talk to him, and further to my frustration, I had been trying to since the day after the accident. The last time I'd seen him, outside the ER, we'd both been so furious. I was still angry that he wouldn't trust me with the truth, even though I had flawlessly kept my side of the bargain and not called him out to anyone. But at the end of the day, he had saved my life, no matter how he'd done it. And, overnight, the heat of my anger, although ever present, was fading into gratitude.

He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn away. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.

"Hello, Blaine," I offered diplomatically, to show him that I was the better man, that I was entirely indifferent to the whole situation.

He turned his head ever so slightly in my direction and nodded the slightest fraction before looking away again.

That was the last contact I'd had with him in days. It made me miserable and despite my downright lies Burt could tell something was up. He even cut back the usual amount of time he spent with Carole in an attempt to spend more time with me. I tried to encourage him to get out of the house, blame my mood on the weather but parents are funny like that—he just knew. I was secretly glad to have his company but I didn't want him to stop seeing Carole on my account. It was the first time I'd seen him happy since… well, since the first time we had learnt Mom was sick.

Rachel, at least, was pleased by the lack of interest that Blaine had for me. She thought we were even closer for it and completely ignored Blaine as he ignored us. She was glad to see the snow coming to an end meaning the beach proposal might soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed. She reminded me of another event I should prepare myself for—she called one night to see what I thought of her asking Finn to the girls' choice spring dance in two weeks.

"As he is your boyfriend, I would assume he is obligated to say yes. Are you two still going out?" I didn't see why else she would be asking me what _I_ thought.

"As far as I'm aware," Rachel said a little sadly, "But I have reason to believe that Brittany has motivation to ask him and I'm scared he won't turn her down. I was sort of hoping you'd get Brittany to ask you."

Dancing—intimately with girls at the very least—was outside my range of abilities. "No, Rachel, I'm not going," I said flatly.

"It will be fun." Her attempt to convince me didn't sound genuine so a little BFF encouragement was in due order. "Finn _will_ go with you," I assured her, "Don't worry about Brittany. I'm sure she'll find some other poor soul."

The next day, I was surprised that Rachel wasn't her usual Hermione Granger-ish self in either Trig or Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my side between classes, and I was afraid to ask her why. If Finn had turned her down for Brittany, it would only see fit that I would be the one responsible slapping him the right way up and I was in no mood to bitch slap anyone.

My fears were strengthened during lunch when Rachel sat as far from Finn as possible, chatting animatedly with Mike and Tina instead. Finn was unusually quiet.

He was still silent as he walked with me to our next class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. But he didn't broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware of Blaine sitting close enough to touch, though as distant as if he were merely an imaginary being.

"So," Finn said, doodling all over his note book, "Rachel asked me to the spring dance."

"That's great!" I made my voice high-pitched and excited, "I would have thought as much seeing as you two are an item!"

"Well…" he sorta stumbled, "I might have told her that I had to think about it."

"Really! _Finn_?" I let my disapproval color my tone, though I was relieved he hadn't rejected the idea of going with her altogether. "Sorry to be Cap'N Obvious here but Rachel is your girlfriend!"

There was certain sadness in his eyes as he looked down again. I felt sorry for him. He had been going out with Rachel since freshman year and as far as I had learned although he had liked her of course he had been pressured into the relationship. Was it really my place to judge if he wanted to try something new? Even if he was going about it in the wrong way…

"I was wondering if… well, if you might talk Brittany into asking me."

I paused for a moment; the shock of having Rachel's suspicions come to light overwhelmed me in that instant and I had to stop.

"Finn, I think you should go with Rachel," I said honestly. He was a good guy; he deserved a girl with brains and he would later regret not going with Rachel. He mightn't show it but in his own way he was crazy about her.

"Has Brittany already asked you?" Finn asked pointedly.

"No," I assured him, "I just feel like you're going to end up hating yourself if you hurt Rachel. And I'm not going to the dance at all."

"Why not?" Finn demanded.

I didn't want to get into the awkwardness I felt about female intimacy, so I quickly made new plans.

"I won't be in town, I have to go to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. It was the perfect excuse. I was itching to get out of Forks for a while and it seemed the perfect time to go. "Finn?" I added tentatively knowing that I was opening a can of worms, "Why isn't it that you don't want to go with Rachel?"

He fumbled around with the pen in his hand and eventually tossed the scrap doodle he had been working on. "It's not that I don't want to go with her. I'm just scared. We do _everything _together. And if we don't work out I would have wasted all this time not getting to know anyone else."

"Are you at all worried that you and Rachel won't work out?"

"No… But girls like that? I don't know what she sees in me. It's only a matter of time before she realizes she can do better."

I honestly felt like face-palming. "Do yourself a favor, Finn and make no haste to cancel the pity party you're throwing for yourself. If you don't realize how crazy she is about you than you don't deserve to be with her! And you shouldn't be making her wait any longer—it's rude."

Though I hadn't physically raised a hand to him, my verbal slapping seemed to have had an effect. Finn flushed red with embarrassment. "Y-you're right…" he finally agreed. He walked back to his seat. I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples. _Of course I was._

When I opened my eyes again, Blaine was staring at me. Mr. Banner had started talking so I began taking notes but when I glanced back at him, he was still staring, eyes dark with curiosity. This time I couldn't look away. My hands started to shake.

"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question I hadn't heard.

"The Krebs Cycle," Blaine answered, confidently, as though to prove that he needn't even have to listen to the question to get it right. But I quickly shook my head. No one could possibly be that smart.

I looked down at my science book trying desperately to flush out the wave of emotion pulsing through me—just because he'd happened to look at me for the first time in a half-dozen weeks. (Five weeks, four days, seven hours and thirty-two minutes to be exact, but who was counting?) I couldn't allow him to have this level of influence over me. It was pathetic. More than pathetic, it was unhealthy. I'd crushed on guys naturally before Blaine. But none had ever been as intense as this.

I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and since that was impossible, at least not to let him know that I was aware of him. When the bell finally rang, I made sure my back was to him as I gathered my stuff to leave, sure that he would have bolted out the door by now anyway.

"Kurt?" His musical voice greeted me. It was wrong how familiar it sounded. I felt as if I knew the sound my whole life rather than a few short weeks.

I didn't want to look at him. I didn't want to feel what I knew I _would_ feel when I looked at his too-perfect face. He didn't say anything. I sighed. "What? You've now decided to speak to me again, is that it?" There had been an unintentional note of petulance in my voice.

"No, not really," he admitted, coyly. I made to leave but my legs would not move. Closing my eyes I finally spoke, "Then what do you want, Blaine?" With my eyes closed, it was easier to remain coherent.

"I'm sorry," he apologized sincerely, "I know how rude you must think I am but it's better this way."

I opened my eyes but my voice remained guarded, "I don't know what you mean."

"It's just better if we're not friends," he explained.

My eyes narrowed. "It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier! You could have saved yourself all this regret!"

He looked confused. The word, and my tone, seemed to throw him off, "Regret? Regret for what?"

"For not letting Brittany's stupid van crush me."

He eyes widened. He stared at me in disbelief. When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad, "You think I _regret_ saving your life?"

"I _know_ you do!" I snapped. I also knew I was being a total diva but Blaine had earned that.

"You—you don't know anything!" He was definitely mad.

I had to clench my jaw shut with all the wild accusations I felt like throwing at him just then. I gathered my books and swept out of the room dramatically only to collide with the door and drop all my things. With what dignity I could muster, I bent low to pick them up and he was already there, my books stacked in a neat pile.

"Thank you," I said icily.

"You're welcome," he retorted.

I straightened up again swiftly, and stalked off without looking back.

When school finally ended, I almost ran to my truck; there were just so many people I wanted to avoid. Luckily, my truck hadn't suffered much damage in the accident. Anything that needed fixing could be arranged by Burt. Brittany's parents on the other hand had sold their van to Burt for parts.

I almost fainted when I saw Mike Yorkie leaning up against the side of my truck. "For all that is in Coco's name Mike, don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry…" he mumbled, "I kinda needed to ask a favor and you seemed in such a hurry to leave today, I didn't want to miss you."

_That's why people tend to leave in hurries, Mike_. I thought. And the more I thought, the only time this boy ever spoke to me was when he needed a favor.

"What's up?" I asked, paying no attention whatsoever, as I fumbled for the keys to unlock my truck. That would probably explain why his next question caught me by surprise.

"I was wondering if… well, if you could talk Brittany into asking me to the Girl's Choice Dance."

WHY was this sounding like déjà vu? "What?" I asked more out of surprise than anything else.

"She hasn't already asked you, has she?"

"No," I shook my head. "I'm not going to be in town. Why hasn't Tina asked you?"

"Tina?" Mike asked, as though the thought had only registered his mind. And to think _Clueless_ had starred Alicia Silverstone. It should have been a two star role for Finn Newton and Mike Yorkie.

I guess it didn't take much to be a relationship counselor for the boys at Forks' High. "Yes, Mike, Tina. Doesn't she sorta have a thing for you?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted. _And this year's Vanity Award goes to…_

I broke from my thought and tried to appear—warm. "I think then maybe you should wait for her to ask you."

"Oh," he said. "Maybe you're right."

This time I didn't hesitate to admit it out loud. "Of course I'm right."

Mike looked at me strangely but started to slouch back to the school, "Thanks, Kurt!" he waved.

I hopped into my truck and got ready to leave but there appeared to be some sort of traffic jam up front and from what I could see, Brittany's newly acquired two-door car was causing the hold up; it was parked right up front on an angle that allowed minimal space for anyone to leave the school comfortably. I groaned.

To my right, I heard a low chuckle. Blaine Cullen was right in front of me, laughing to himself. I was sincerely considering denting his Volvo, but didn't fancy having his car at Burt's garage and leaving him with an excuse to talk to my dad.

A line was beginning to form. Where the hell was Brittany? Someone should seriously consider towing her car. (That or they really needed traffic police at schools)! While I was sitting there, looking everywhere but at the stupid shiny Volvo in front of me, I heard a knock on my passenger side window. I looked over; it was Brittany. It was then that I noticed that her car wasn't parked at all; she had left it still running, key in ignition. I pulled down the window.

"What are you doing, Brittany? Your car is blocking all traffic! Get back there and move it!"

She didn't seem to notice the urgency or anger in my tone. "Oh I know! But I couldn't park anywhere else without forgetting where I'd put it—again."

Seriously. How in the world had this girl passed her driver ed.? "Well, the whole school seems to know where you've parked now!"

"Yeah, I guess that's why they're honking. Look, I was wondering if I could ask you something?"

Oh no… This could _not_ be happening.

"Will you come with me to the spring dance?" she continued.

"I can't, Brittany." My voice was a little sharp. I had to remind myself that it wasn't her fault Finn and Mike and Blaine had already used up my quota of patience for the day.

"But it's girl's choice. And I choose you…"

"I'm really sorry, Brittany, but I won't be in town."

"Yeah… Finn said that."

"Then why—"

She shrugged, "I thought you had only said that to let him down because it's a _girl's_ choice dance."

Okay, it was completely her fault.

"Sorry, Brittany, but like I said, I won't be here. I'm going to Seattle that weekend."

"That's cool. We still have prom."

And before I could respond, she was walking back to her car. I could feel the shock on my face. I looked forward to see Mercedes, Quinn, Puck and Sam all sliding into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Blaine's eyes were on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, as if he'd heard every word Brittany had said.

A voice in my head reminded me that one little bump would hardly hurt his car… maybe damage the paint a little… I revved the engine.

But Blaine had already sped off.

When I got home, I decided to make vegetarian lasagna. It was a time-consuming dish but I needed something that would keep me busy. While I was mixing the spinach and ricotta, the phone rang. I was afraid to answer it but it was either Burt or at the risk of sounding too dramatic, an emergency.

It was Rachel, and she was jubilant; Finn had caught her after school to tell her he'd accepted her invitation, that there was no other choice, and he was sorry he ever made her wait. I celebrated briefly with her while preheating the oven. She had to go; she wanted to call Tina and Lauren to tell them. I suggested—with casual innocence—that maybe Tina should ask Mike. And then I quickly called Lauren, a rather big but incredibly nice girl with an uncommon passion for wrestling, for a favor and asked that she point a respectable suitor in Brittany's favor to avoid the hassle of her asking me again (I wouldn't put it past Brittany to forget she already had) and to distract her from asking me to prom in her wake. Lauren was only too happy to oblige since I had promised to help find her for a dress for the spring dance.

I tried to distract myself with the thought that Rachel had actually sounded sincere when she said she wished I could come to the dance, but then reminded myself that was only because she was now certain of Finn's interest in her… and then my head began spinning, analyzing all Blaine had told me today. What did he mean, it was better if we weren't friends?

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><p><strong>AN: **I realize that Chapter Four doesn't end here in the original _Twilight_ novel but it's been sooo long since I updated and I really wanted to get this out to you guys! Don't worry, it just means that Chapter Five – Blood Type – will be just that little bit longer :) I'm so sorry it's taken so long but a new little nephew can do that to you! I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible, maybe as an apology for taking so long to get this one out…. But in the meantime reviews help! Oh… there'll be a lot more Klaine coming up too… ^_^


	5. Chapter 5: Blood Type

**A/N: **So this chapter starts with what should have been at the end of Chapter Four. I hope you enjoy this slightly longer chapter! It took _forever_ to write!

Disclaimer: Soooo I still don't own Glee or Twilight. But I would still like to collect some more reviews from all you lovely people! How does that sound? ^_^ Fact: Reviews encourage authors to write faster ;)

Chapter Five – _**Blood Type**_

When Burt arrived home that night, he didn't need to guess where I was. The smell of the lasagna I had been cooking drifted throughout the entire house. I carved a small piece for him to taste. "Mmm," he said before he had even finished swallowing it. "When I decide to invite Carole over for dinner I do hope you'll cook that night too."

"Sure!" I smiled. Didn't I always? "In exchange can I have your permission to go to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday?"

"Why?" he asked suspiciously, as if were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.

"Well, I wanted to do a bit of shopping. You know, look at some nice clothes. There's a collection they're receiving that you just won't get here in Forks."

Thanks to Burt paying for my car, I had more money than I was used to even if most of it was going on gas.

"You're free to come with me if you want!"

Though any normal teenager would have been mortified of the prospect of inviting their father to go shopping with them, I happened to know Burt would immediately be put off with the thought of having to sit outside change rooms all day.

"Well, I'm not worried about you going on your own it's just that truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage." Damn. I had worried about that too.

"I thought as much. It's okay. I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia – and Tacoma if I have to."

"And you're _sure_ about going by yourself?"

"I'm not going to get lost, Dad."

"Well… okay."

"Okay? Really?" I said shocked, "I mean—thanks!"

But he looked strangely suspicious as a cheeky grin formed on his face, "So… will you be back in time for the spring dance?"

Grrr. Only in a town this small would a _father_ know when the high school dances were.

"No—I don't… I don't really want to go." I had contemplated several lies in my head but none of them seemed very realistic so I decided the truth would have to suffice. My eyes were to the floor. Burt placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's not because it's a girl's choice dance, is it? Because these Fork's girls would be crazy not to ask you."

"No, I've been invited it's just…"

_I'm gay._

"I have homework to do, Dad." I lied. I had finished it all yesterday. I hurried awkwardly off to my room anyway feeling his eyes on me the whole way.

~.~

Like most days, the weather was absolutely horrible the next morning. It was pouring down with rain. I drove slowly to school, not wanting to risk getting into an accident, making sure that when I arrived I was parked as far away from the silver Volvo as I could be. I didn't want to tempt myself and end up owing him a new car. As I hurried off to the main building, I saw Blaine standing nearby chatting uninterestedly with his siblings. I quickly looked away.

But when I turned my head again, he was standing right next to me. I jumped. "How do you _do_ that?" I asked, half amazed, half irritated.

"Do what?"

"Appear out of thin air."

"Kurt, I happen to be a transfer student from Hogwarts, apparition is second nature to me." I raised an eyebrow. No way was I buying that. Even Brittany wasn't that gullible especially when Blaine had used so much sarcasm when he had said it.

"I thought you were supposed to be pretending I didn't exist, not irritating me to death. What is it that you want anyway?"

He seemed slightly jarred, "I'm not trying to pretend you don't exist."

"So then you _are_ trying to irritate me to death? Since Brittany didn't manage to complete the job with her van?"

I seemed to have hit a nerve. The slight smile he had held on his face was gone. "Kurt, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.

To my surprise I found my palms tingling and a strange sensation to hit something. The latter surprised me more as I was a nonviolent person. I shook my head, wondering why on earth I was bothering to give him the time of day and started to walk away.

"Wait!" he called. I kept walking, quickening my pace to try and avoid him, but the attempt was futile; he reached me within seconds. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

"Why won't you leave me alone?" I grumbled.

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me." His tone seemed good natured again as though it had recovered from its iciness in a heartbeat and it left me curious.

"Have you been watching too much _United State of Tara_?" I asked, "Because it's almost as if you have Dissociative Identity Disorder."

"You're being absurd again."

I sighed. "Fine. What do you want?"

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday—you know, the day of the spring dance—"

"Wait—" I interrupted, "Are you trying to be _funny?" _The rain drenched my skin as I looked up at his face.

His eyes were wickedly amused. "If you allowed me to finish, you'd realize I was actually just trying to offer you a ride to Seattle."

That was unexpected.

"What?" I wasn't so sure what he was getting at.

"Do you want a ride to Seattle?" he repeated.

"With _you_?" I asked, mystified.

"Obviously…" He said the word slowly as though he was afraid of having to repeat himself again.

I was still stunned. "_Why_?"

"Well, I have also been planning to head down to Seattle soon and quite frankly I don't think your truck can make it."

"My truck works just fine, thank you very much! And my Dad happens to know a thing or two about engines anyway, I'll be perfectly okay." I started to walk again but was too surprised with the proposal that I found myself unable to maintain the same level of anger.

"I doubt your truck will be able to make it there on one tank of gas," he commented matching my pace again.

"Yeah, well, I don't see how that's any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."

Was he being serious? "Honestly, Blaine. I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend."

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Oh, thanks, now that's just cleared _everything_ up!" We were finally out of the rain, so I was able to gaze at his face clearly. Which didn't really help my clarity of thought.

"It would be more… _prudent_ for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Kurt."

His eyes were so gloriously intense as he smolderingly delivered that last sentence. I had to remind myself to breathe.

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked. He seemed confident. He had every right to be, I didn't have it in me to let him down. I nodded.

He smiled briefly, and then his face became more serious. "You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."

He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe what Blaine had just said. Or maybe it had something to do with the way his eyes had looked. Maybe I'd just had a really confusing dream and was mixing it with reality. That seemed more likely than the idea that I appealed to him on any level.

So I was impatient, and even a little frightened, when Rachel and I entered the cafeteria. I wanted to see his face, to see if the cold, indifferent person I'd know for the last few weeks would be there. Or if, by some miracle, I'd heard correctly this morning. Rachel talked non-stop about her dance plans—Lauren and Tina were going too and had dates and the six of them would be going together—but was completely annoyed by my inattention.

"Kurt, what's the matter with you? You were so excited to talk about the dance last night!"

I was distracted—and with good reason. At their usual table, only four of the Cullens sat. Where was Blaine? Had he gone home? I hastily apologized to Rachel letting her carry on as I placed nothing but an apple and lemonade on my tray. I just wanted to sit down and sulk.

"Blaine Cullen is staring at you again," Rachel said with the smallest hint of cheekiness in her voice, "I wonder why he's sitting alone today."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Blaine smiling, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned me to join him. I stared in disbelief.

Rachel was smiling with an 'I-knew-it!' expression all over her face. Since her own relationship with Finn was running smoothly she spent the time she usually invested worrying about him to spend on my—for lack of a better word—interests. "I think he means _you_," she said ending her sentence with a short giggle.

I was still staring at Blaine; the expression on my face must have alerted him to my confusion for he beckoned over at me again.

"Go!" Rachel ushered, positively on the edge of bursting into laughter.

"Yeah… I think I might… He probably needs help with his Biology homework." I offered, not wanting to bring light to the obvious fact that I might be interested in him, "I better go see what he wants."

It was her turn to wink at me as I walked away with my tray. When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, unsure.

"Did you want to sit here today?" he asked, smiling.

I sat down silently, watching him cautiously. I was very aware of the fact that his moods changed quicker than a bipolar cheetah and I would not, could not, risk myself falling into that trap. I couldn't bring myself to say anything.

"You weren't hungry today?" he started, noticing my half eaten apple and unopened lemonade.

"This is different…" I said voicing my thoughts out loud, completely sidetracking off his original question. He didn't seem to mind. "Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to Hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

There was an awkward pause in which I waited for him to clarify what he had just said or say something that would actually make sense. "You know I don't have any idea what you mean."

"I know," he nodded, and then he changed the topic, "Your friends seem happy that you're sitting with me."

"Rachel probably is," I agreed. I could predict a phone call from her the second school was out.

"Why do you look so worried?" he asked, his smile was still stretched out across his gorgeous face.

"I'm not," I said, and I knew it was true, "I'm just surprised… what brought all this on?"

"I told you—I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He was still smiling but his beautiful eyes were serious.

"Giving up?"

"Yes… I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.

"Sorry, you've lost me again."

"I'm afraid I keep telling you much more than I should."

"Don't worry—I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.

"I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends…" he muttered as though the word was somehow foreign to him.

"Or not," I muttered.

He heard me. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.

"You keep telling me that. But you haven't given me any reason to feel like you'd be a bad friend."

He shrugged nonchalantly, "If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear." My eyes narrowed. "So, as long as I'm being as smart as Brittany Crowley is, we'll try to be friends." I struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.

"Well your IQ wouldn't need to be that low, but something like that."

My hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, unsure of what to do now.

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

I looked up at his eyes, and as usual in my befuddlement, blurted out the truth.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort. "Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.

"Not too much," I admitted.

The news seemed to relax him a bit, "Well… do you have any theories?"

If I was being honest to myself I did. This last month I had been tossing up between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker. But there was no way I was going to own up to my Marvel theories…

"I'm not telling you," I finally said, "It's way too embarrassing."

"That's _really_ frustrating, you know," he complained.

"No," I disagreed, a little annoyed, "I can't _imagine_ why that would be frustrating at all—just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean… now, why would that be frustrating?"

He grimaced.

"Or better," I continued, the annoyance I was feeling unleashed itself through my speech, "say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things—from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a ghost the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be _very_ non-frustrating."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?"

"I don't like double standards."

We stared at each other, unsmiling. It seemed as if he was trying to figure me out but failing miserably. _Good_.

Blaine glanced over my shoulder and something he saw made him laugh.

"What?"

"Your boyfriend seems to be debating whether or not to break up our fight." He laughed again.

"_Boyfriend_? Who?"

I turned around quickly and noticed Finn standing at the table his fists clenched softly, while Rachel was patting his arm, whispering hurriedly to him.

"_Finn_?" I asked incredulously, "He's not my boyfriend! In fact, he's like a surrogate brother. Our parents just started dating. You, Blaine, are wrong."

"Well," he surmised, "People are usually easy to read."

"Except me."

"Yes. Except for you. I wonder why that is."

I quickly distracted myself from staring at him by taking a quick swig of my lemonade.

"You're not hungry." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, we've been over this. What about you, you're not hungry?"

He looked to be enjoying some sort of private joke, "No, I'm not hungry."

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked, almost hesitating, "The next time you decide to ignore me for my own good, can it come with a warning? Just so I can be prepared." I couldn't quite look at him as I spoke.

"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up.

"Thanks."

"Then can I have one answer in return." He demanded.

"One."

Tell me _one_ theory."

Oh, hell no. "Not that one."

"I _could_ ask why you took no offense with me suggesting you may have a _boyfriend_…"

Oh crap, did this mean I had to tell him now when he had something like that hanging over me? "But you'll laugh at me! Although… I suppose I should be used to being laughed at."

"So you'll tell me then?"

"Um…" I started dazed. Was Blaine a hypnotist too? Or was I just a hopeless pushover? "Bitten by a radioactive spider?"

"That's not very creative."

I shrugged, "That's all I got."

"You're not even close," he teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope."

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"I'm out." I sighed, trying to come across disappointed.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me either," he chuckled.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you!" I flushed, embarrassed.

He struggled to compose his face.

"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.

"I really wish you wouldn't try." He was serious again.

"And I shouldn't try, because…?"

"What if I'm not the superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?"

Well, Blaine, that would be sexy too. But I sure as hell was not going to say that. "So you're dangerous?" As I said it out loud it suddenly dawned on me. He _was_ dangerous. He'd been trying to tell me that all along.

He couldn't bring himself to answer. He looked sad, almost. His eyes were full of an emotion I couldn't quite comprehend.

"But not bad," I whispered, shaking my head. "No, I don't believe that you're bad."

"You're wrong." His voice was almost inaudible. I should be afraid. He meant what he was saying—maybe sexy bad Blaine was just far by too interesting to me. He had me fascinated, the same way I felt when I was near him. The silence lasted until I noticed the cafeteria was almost empty.

I jumped to my feet, "We're going to be late."

"I'm not going to class today," he said, his fingers wrapped around the lid of my lemonade bottle.

"Why not?"

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He seemed troubled.

"Well, I'm going," I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught and I happened to enjoy the freedom of being able to go to class without having to hide from old bullies. I turned back one last time to glance at him. The cap of my bottle was spinning like a top, so fast it was just a blur. He met my eye and waved. I continued to class.

As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped.

I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat watching Finn and Tina approach me.

"Hey guys…" I said but both of them wore slightly surprised, slightly awed expressions on their faces.

"Dude," Finn mumbled, "I just want you to know that if Cullen tries anything, anything that makes you feel uncomfortable in the slightest, you have my back.

"Oh er… thanks, Finn."

"And," Tina interrupted, as Mr. Banner entered the room, "Rachel wants you to call her the second school's out."

I nodded as the class was called to order. Mr. Banner was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Finn's table, telling him to start passing them around the class.

"Okay so there a few pieces in each box that I need you to take. The first is an indicator card. The second is a four-pronged applicator—" He held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick, "—and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was visible from the distance, but my stomach flipped. But surely that must have something to do with the fact that all I had for lunch was half a bottle of lemonade and two bites of an apple.

Mr. Banner wanted us to prick our fingers with the lancet, as he so calmly demonstrated on Finn, and put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs. I felt my stomach begin to heave.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission—I have slips at my desk."

He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the black tabletop and tried to hold on to my consciousness. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints and giggles as my classmates skewed their fingers. I breathed slowly, trying to avoid the need to vomit.

"Kurt, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed.

"I already know my blood type, sir." I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head.

"Are you feeling faint?"

"Yes, Mr. Banner," I muttered. Thank God the Lima Football team was miles away; I could see the torture I'd have to endure if they found out. I wished I had ditched class with Blaine when I had the chance.

Mr. Banner organized for Finn to help me to the nurse and he gently towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of Biology in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped.

"Can I sit for a moment?" I begged. "And whatever you do, keep your hand in your pocket!"

I was still so dizzy. I placed my cheek against the coolness of the sidewalk. I hated acting like such a girl. But it definitely had something to do with the fact that I hadn't eaten properly. I was sure of it.

"Wow, you're green, Kurt," Finn said nervously.

"Kurt?" A different voice called from the distance.

"What's wrong—is he hurt?" His voice was closer now, and he sounded upset. I wasn't imagining it. I was trying so very hard not to throw up.

Finn seemed stressed, "I think he fainted. I don't know what happened, he didn't even prick his finger."

"Kurt." Blaine's voice was right beside me, relieved now. "Can you hear me?"

"No," I groaned, "Go away."

He chuckled.

"I was taking him to the nurse," Finn explained in a defensive tone, "but he wouldn't go any farther."

"I'll take him," Blaine said. I could hear the smile still in his voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Finn protested, "I can do it. Mr. Banner asked me to."

Suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock. Blaine had scooped me up in his arms as easy as if I weighed nothing at all. I was slightly awed but mostly embarrassed. The scene would have almost been romantic had Finn not been standing there and had I not been desperately hoping that I would not vomit all over him.

"Put me down!" Blaine was walking before I had even finished the three little words.

"Hey!" Finn called, already ten paces behind us.

Blaine ignored him, "You look awful," he told me, grinning.

"Please put me down," I moaned, "This rocking movement is not helping." He held me away from his body, gingerly, supporting all my weight with just his arms—it didn't seem to bother him.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked, almost entertained. I was not going to give in to my embarrassment this easily.

"No! I just hadn't eaten well at lunch."

He mumbled to himself, completely disregarding my last statement, "…and not even his own blood."

I don't know how he opened the office door when he was carrying me, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside.

I heard the receptionist grasp.

"He's a little faint," Blaine explained, completely unperturbed by the gasps and staring. Blaine walked me into a nearby room and placed me gently on one of the small cots. "They were blood typing in Biology and—Kurt hadn't eaten much at lunch."

"Well there's your problem, right there!" the nurse agreed, "Who are you trying to impress by not eating?"

I sighed but didn't answer. This was totally embarrassing. On the plus side, the nausea was starting to fade.

"Does this happen a lot?" Mrs. Cope asked.

"No, not at all!" I lied quickly, and Blaine had to cough to hide his laugh. It was as if she had only noticed he was still there. "You can go back to class now, Mr. Cullen."

"I'm supposed to stay with him." He said this with such superiority that even if she didn't agree she dropped it altogether. She went to get ice for my forehead.

I turned to Blaine, "I can't believe I'm going to admit this but—you were actually right."

"I usually am—" he agreed, almost arrogantly but in the cute way, "but what about in particular this time?"

"Ditching _is_ healthy."

"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted after a pause. His tone indicated he almost seemed embarrassed to admit it. "I thought Finn was dragging off your dead body to be buried in the woods."

"Really, Blaine?" I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling better every minute.

"Honestly, I've seen paler people than me with better color than you today. I was concerned I might have to avenge your murder."

"Poor Finn. I bet he's mad."

"He can't stand me!" Blaine admitted happily.

My auto-almost-brother-defenses started kicking in, "Finn's a really nice non-judgmental guy. You can't possibly know that."

Or could he?

I heard the door open and the nurse had returned with an ice pack. She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better, dear!"

"I feel better," I said, sitting up. She would have made me lie down again but the door swung open revealing Finn and Brittany. "We've got another one!" Finn explained, as if he were sporting fish.

Blaine looked apprehensive, "You really don't want to stay to see what mess Brittany got herself into. How in the world anyone managed to do that with a lancet I'll never know…."

I didn't need telling twice. Even if Blaine hadn't warned me it was that rust and salt and—

"You actually listened to me." He was stunned.

"Oh don't get too excited. It had nothing to do with you. I can't stand the smell of blood."

"People can't smell blood," he contradicted.

"Well," I countered, "I _can_. And it makes me sick!"

Blaine was staring at me.

Finn came through the door then, glancing from me to Blaine. The look he gave Blaine confirmed what Blaine had said about loathing though I'd ask Finn about it later. He looked back at me.

"You look better!" he said cheerfully.

"As long as you keep your hand away from me!" I joked.

"It's not bleeding anymore," he promised, "Are you coming back to class?"

"You're kidding me, right? You know the second I walk in I'd only be walking right back out again."

"Good point," Finn agreed, "Oh um… are you coming this weekend? To the beach?" While he spoke, he flashed another glance at Blaine, who was standing against the counter, motionless as a statue, pretending not to notice our conversation at all.

Of course I wanted to go. I said I'd go. I was doing this for Burt. I was sure he'd love for me to get to know Finn better. "I'm still in."

"We're meeting at my mom's store, at ten. I'll see you next class then."

He slumped off patting my shoulder. He had such a puppy face. I hoped he wouldn't be too mopey during—

"Gym," I groaned.

"I can take care of that." Blaine offered and within minutes thanks to Mr. Suave we had been _both_ been excused from class. I wish I could do that. There must have been some wishful thinking in my expression because whether or not he was joking, Blaine offered to carry me again.

"I'll walk, thank you." I stood carefully, and I was still fine. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for me and I was greeted by soft rain—it felt nice after being stuck in a warm office for so long.

"Thanks," I repeated as he followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

He nodded. I decided I'd bring up Finn's little trip, "Are you coming with us this Saturday?"

I felt I was hoping for too much. It wasn't that he didn't just fit in here; Blaine seemed to belong to a whole other world. But just hoping that he might say yes gave me a jolt I hadn't felt in years.

"Where exactly are you going?"

"Down to First Beach, in La Push."

He glanced down at me, smiling wryly. "I really don't think I was invited."

"Yeah well, _I'm_ inviting you!"

"I don't know Kurt, I don't really want to push Finn any further than I should. Especially if he's like family to you."

Why did I feel like Blaine was making excuses?

We were near the parking lot now when Blaine suddenly stopped walking.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

He eyes were downcast, "I promised to get you home safely. I don't really think you should be driving in your condition."

I tried very hard to suppress laughter, "Condition? Excuse me? And don't forget my truck is here."

"I'll have Mercedes drop it off after school." He put his hand ever-so-lightly on my waist and began steering me in the direction of his Volvo. Though I had no reservations about the touching I didn't like being forced into anything. "Blaine, this really isn't necessary!"

I staggered along sideways across the wet sidewalk until we reached his car. When he finally let go I almost stumbled against the passenger door. "You're not pushy at all, are you?" I asked sarcastically.

"It's open," was his only response. He got into the driver's seat.

"I am perfectly capable of driving myself home!" I stood by the car, fuming. It was raining harder now, and my hair was starting to drip.

He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in, Kurt."

I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching my truck before he could catch me. I had to admit they didn't look good.

"This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly as I surrendered into the seat beside him. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. I was preparing to give him the silent treatment as we pulled out of the parking lot but then I recognized the music playing and my curiosity got the better of me.

"I didn't pick you as a Streisand fan!" I said, surprised.

"You know this song?" Blaine sounded surprised, too.

"I love it!" I admitted, "My mother used to play a lot of her music around the house. It's one of my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." He stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

I listened to the music, relaxing against the gray leather seat softly humming to myself. It was impossible not to sing along when I knew the words so well.

"What was your mother like?" he asked me suddenly.

I stopped singing. No one had ever asked me that before. I swallowed. "She was really pretty. I have her eyes. She was very brave and even when she got sick she was still looking after me and Burt. She was my best friend." I stopped. Talking about her was more depressing than I had expected.

"How old are you, Kurt?"

We had already arrived at Burt's house. The rain was pouring down heavier than before. It was almost like Blaine's Volvo was submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," I responded.

"You don't seem seventeen."

My eyes narrowed, "Yeah well, you don't seem much like a junior either," I noted.

He made a face and quickly changed the subject.

"Do you think your father will marry Carole?"

It didn't take me long to answer this, "I hope so. Carole… she's good for him. Burt finally looks alive again with her around. And it will be nice having Finn as a brother, I suppose."

"So you approve?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" I countered. "I want Burt to be happy and if Carole is who he wants…"

"That's very generous…I wonder," he mused.

"What?"

"Would Burt extend the same courtesy to you, do you think? No matter who your choice was?" He was suddenly intent, his eyes searching mine.

"I-I think so," I stuttered. "But he is the parent after all. And I haven't yet told him of my… choices."

"So no women then," he teased.

I'd never had this discussion before with anyone. But somehow—having this conversation with Blaine in his car felt really comfortable. I had my suspicions about him since Rachel had joked about Blaine playing for the 'other team,' but this was the first time, however cryptically, that we were talking about it.

I thought for a moment, wondering whether the truth or a lie would go over better. I decided to go with the truth.

"Hmmm, I think _you'd_ want just as many female suitors as I do."

"If that number is zero, then yes, I suppose you're right… What are you thinking now?"

He had an awful habit of repeating that question. "I guess I was just wondering about your family. It's got to be a much more interesting story than mine."

He was instantly cautious, "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?" I verified.

"Yes."

I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?"

"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"I don't really remember them that clearly. William and Emma have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of them.

"Yes." He smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky."

"I know I am."

"And your brother and sister?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"My brother and sister, and Sam and Quinn for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Will I see you at the beach on Saturday?" I didn't want to get out of his car.

"No. Puck and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you guys getting up to?" A friend could ask that, right? I hoped the disappointment in my voice wasn't too apparent.

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier."

I remembered Burt had mentioned the Cullens went camping frequently.

"Oh, well have fun!" I tried to sound enthusiastic but failed miserably. As I walked hurriedly back to the house, I heard him call out after me.

"Kurt? Just be careful this weekend! You seem to attract accidents like a magnet and I don't want to have to find out that you've fallen into a river!"

He was smiling but I glared straight at him. "I'll try my best!" I said sarcastically.

He was still smiling as he drove away.

And once my glare vanished, so was I.

~.~

A/N: So we finally get to meet 'Dave Black' next chapter which is Karosfsky/Jacob. Please review if you want me to continue! I'll try not to take so long to update, I swear! This was my longest chapter yet, over seventeen pages and six thousands words! Phew! I think I deserve a little encouragement after that lol!


	6. Chapter 6: Scary Stories

**A/N: **Thank you, thank you, thank you! You guys are amazing! Wow, I'm so glad people are still reading this!

_Klainelight _, from ch6 will start to sound a little less twilight and a lot more kurtsie. Although I have modeled _Klainelight_ on Twilight, at the end of the day, Kurt isn't Bella and Blaine isn't Edward. No matter what story an author models them in, they are, quite simply just Klaine….

...Although expect a lot from David Black this chapter, lol.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Glee _or _Twilight_. But I do own an iPhone 4 with several gLee apps :p

Chapter Six – _**Scary Stories**_

You would have thought that over the beating rain I would have heard Mercedes drive my truck in. But even with continuous glances out my curtain it had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

Rachel was extremely Rachel come Friday. She kept pressing for news about Blaine and I would have gladly given her the gossip—except for the part where there was nothing to tell. Finn had kept quiet about Blaine's involvement in my little dramatic episode so Rachel remained oblivious. That didn't stop her asking questions about the lunch though. She caught up with me in Trig. "So what did Blaine Cullen want yesterday?"

I went to shrug casually but she stopped me, "You can't get off that easy, Kurt! When two people's mouths are moving it's conversation—and you and Blaine seemed deep in it."

"He never really got to the point," I answered truthfully.

"You seemed kind of mad," she pointed, fishing for more information.

"I did?" I asked surprised.

"You know, Blaine never sits with anyone but his family. Trust me, I would know. It was really weird."

"Weird…? How so?"

But even with my superb acting skills at remaining inconspicuous, Rachel's eyes grew wide and it dawned on her. "Oh my… I knew it! You _like _him!"

"Excuse me?" I retorted, one eyebrow raised but only because I had nothing else to shoot back. Inside my heart was racing… why couldn't Rachel be oblivious like Brittany?

"It's okay," she said writing down several trig problems, at an incredible speed, "I won't judge you—two dad's remember?"

I was starting to get nervous and my writing was starting to suffer, "It really isn't like that," I pressed. "You've got it all wrong. Besides, I like someone else."

She kept up her furious writing pace, "Really? Who? Because Sam's taken too."

"Rachel…"

"And I'm still dating Finn."

"_Rachel_!"

"Is something the matter?" Mr. Varner asked, walking past our table and looming taller than ever as he looked down on us.

"No sir, not at all," I lied sheepishly. He seemed to buy it and continued to walk. Rachel however, thank Gaga, did not pick up the nerve to talk to me again.

At lunch, Finn had taken over, chatting animatedly of Saturday's plans. Rapt in the attention he was showing her with his arm around her as he talked, Rachel did not press me any further. I personally was looking forward to the warmer weather Finn firmly believed in—at least the day would be a little brighter.

But as depressing as I knew it was, I couldn't help looking over at the table where Quinn, Mercedes and Sam were sitting, talking only amongst themselves. Despite Blaine telling me that he wouldn't be here today, a tiny part of me had still hoped that he would be.

That night at dinner, Burt seemed exceptionally enthusiastic that I had agreed to go to La Push with Finn and his friends. He kept repeating how wonderful he thought it was that we were spending time together, and how happy Carole would be to know that we were getting along, and how proud he was that I was making such an effort to get to really know Finn better.

"Honestly Dad, with the way you're going on, you'd think you'd want me to date him!"

I had said it without thinking, not worrying of the implications, but Burt seemed to have some. He swallowed his food gently, placing his fork softly on the table and spoke very slowly.

"Why… would I think you'd want to date—Finn?"

"I don't!" I said, almost too fast. I could feel the crimson flooding my cheeks. "It's just an expression, Dad. I meant nothing by it. Besides, I think I might like someone else."

This seemed to relax Burt a little. He picked up his fork again, "Really? What's her name?"

"Bl-Brittany," I blurted out almost slipping. I couldn't look Burt in the eye.

"Brittany Crowley? That ditzy blonde who almost ran you over?"

I nodded. "Yeah, she invited me to prom."

I still couldn't quite look Burt in the eye but I could tell he was looking at me intently, almost confused even. He sighed. "Well if—_Brittany_—is who makes you happy, then, I'm all for it."

Burt picked up his fork again but still sat there without eating. I could tell he was thinking very hard. "Kurt," he finally said, "I just want you to be happy. And be with whoever it is that makes you happy."

I almost coughed and choked at the same time as I spluttered out a jumbled 'thank you'. Could Burt possibly know I liked Blaine? I had been very careful not to say anything but then again, this was a small town… word would get around fast, especially if Rachel had said anything. But I hadn't even yet told him I'd be going to Seattle with Blaine. Not that I was in any hurry to.

"Dad?" I asked drinking some water and hastily trying to change the subject, "Do you know a place called Goat Rocks?"

"Yeah…" he answered slowly, "You're not going to tell me you're suddenly interested in hunting, are you?"

"No."

"Good. Because it's a dangerous place. Full of bears. Okay for hunting season, but I didn't quite pick you as the hunting type to be honest."

"Oh," I murmured, "No you're right. I just heard the name in passing. Must have got it wrong. I thought I heard some kids talk about camping there."

An unusual brightness woke me the next day. I couldn't believe it. Finn had forecast the weather almost perfectly, and sure enough, as I stared out my window, there was the sun. There were still endless clouds but in the distance, a patch of blue. I stared at it for as long as I could, not sure when I would see it again.

Carole's Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. Burt had been there several times—but not for supplies—and was able to drop me off as he was spending the day with Carole anyway. In the parking lot I recognized Finn and Brittany's cars. I waved bye to Burt as he joined Carole inside the store and went over to where the group were standing. Mike Yorkie was there, along with two other boys I had class with. Rachel was there too, along with Tina Weber and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them, though I didn't know their names either.

Finn seemed happy to see me. "Hey Kurt! I'm glad you've come!" He grasped my hand tight in a firm handshake, "Between you and me Mom seems over the moon that I invited you."

"Yeah, Dad's the same," I nodded.

"We're just waiting for a couple of others… unless you invited someone," Finn added.

"Blaine," I admitted, "But he won't be able to make it. He had other plans."

I could feel the eyes of everyone around me—Rachel's bearing into me the most. Finn seemed oblivious to the sudden drawn attention to me. "So did you wanna ride with me and Rachel? It's either that or risking your life with Brittany."

"You're letting her drive?"

Finn winked, "It was the only way I could get this many girls to come!"

As Finn was driving, Rachel naturally called shotgun placing her arm enthusiastically on Finn's leg as we drove away. Tina and Mike had joined me in the back but the other three girls I hadn't known had gone with Lauren and Brittany, and the first two boys I had remembered by face only were meeting us there.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with gorgeous dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice. I was glad I had the window seat—mainly because Mike and Tina had upgraded from inappropriate lunch coziness to compatible Asian McHappy Meals and were, in the softest way I could describe it, having each other for lunch.

I'd been to the beaches here before during the summers we had come down when Mom was still healthy, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. I sighed breathing in the fresh air as I remembered holding Mom's hand as we strolled bare feet in the sand.

We picked our way down to the beach, Finn leading the way. He set up a beautiful driftwood fire composed of beautiful blue and green colors—it was the salt that did that. The boys decided to go hiking to the nearby tidal pools and a smirk grew across my face as I thought of Blaine's request that I not fall into the river.

Minus Rachel and Tina, the girls decided to stay on the beach while two of the boys remained back to stay with them. I joined the hiking group much to Finn's pleasure, I was sure I heard him say something to Rachel that sounded very much like, "Don't be so clingy".

The hike wasn't too long but I kept to myself. My thoughts admittedly were elsewhere with Blaine, wondering what he'd be doing and saying if he was here, but I made the effort to talk to Finn. Eventually my inattentiveness caused me to fall behind. Mike and Finn eventually decided they were hungry and we made our trek back to First Beach.

On our return, the group had multiplied and casual introductions were made. As we got closer I realized that teenagers from the reservation had also come to socialize. The food was already being passed around, and Mike hurried to claim a share while Finn introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle—he had obviously met these boys before.

Tina and I were the last to arrive and as Finn said our names I noticed a familiar face near the fire glance up at me in interest. I couldn't quite place where I had seen him though he looked a lot like the guys Burt would yell at when he watched football on TV. I sat down next to Tina, and Finn offered us food. One of the older boys from the reservation rattled off their names of the seven others with him but all I caught was that one of the girls was Santana Clearwater and the boy who noticed me was David.

It was relaxing to sit next to Tina; she was so shy without Mike near her that she didn't feel the need to fill every moment with chatter. It left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. I knew exactly what—or more specifically, who— had caused the difference, and it disturbed me.

As everyone finished up on lunch, people began to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Finn — with Rachel shadowing him — headed up to the one shop in the village, though they seemed okay with each other, hand in hand. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting alone with Lauren and Brittany occupying themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the boy named David.

A few minutes after Tina left with the hikers, David sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked close to my age, maybe older, but definitely built like a football player; his eyes were dark, set deep above the high planes of his cheekbones. He still had a childish roundness left around his chin. Altogether, he wasn't entirely horrible to look at.

"You're Kurt Hummel, aren't you?"

I was surprised. There was no role-call here to listen out for. How would he know my dad's surname?

"Kurt Swan," I corrected, "I'm not sure how you know me as Hummel as I had my name changed before I got here. Speaking of which, I can't remember yours."

"I'm David Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my dad's truck, your name was written on one of the papers."

"Oh," I said, finally making the connection as I shook his hand. "You're Artie's son. Now I know where I've seen you! We used to make pies together when we were little!"

"Pies made out of mud!" He laughed remembering, but then his face grew solemn, "I know we were just kids then but I called you some pretty horrible names. I can't believe I was such a douche. It was why Dad and Burt—"

"—stopped talking," I suddenly recalled.

Burt and Artie had consequentially organized our play dates, to keep us busy while they fished. They were really close before the falling out. I hated it when they stopped talking partially because I blamed myself for it happening. I remembered thinking I would never have gone running to Burt if it meant he would lose his friend.

"It's kinda funny now isn't it?" David asked but I wasn't quite sure what he was referring to.

"What's that?"

"The only thing that drove our fathers to start talking again was for one of them to almost die in a car crash."

"True," I agreed, "But I think it had more to do with the fact that Mom was nagging him to talk to Artie for ages! Burt really missed his company and she was the only one who could soften him. But then when the accident happened, Burt didn't need telling twice."

"Elizabeth…" David realized, speaking my mother's name out loud, "Her maiden name was Swan, right?"

I nodded, "I took it after she died."

He must have seen something in my face because David quickly changed the topic. "So… how do you like the truck?" he asked.

"Honestly? I was just glad to not have to turn up on my first day driven by my dad! But all in all, it runs great, I love it."

"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relieved when Burt bought it, though I'd thought he'd be using it for spare parts. That was exactly what I was going to do with it, so I could build another car, but Dad disagreed."

"It's not that slow!" I objected.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No," I admitted.

"Good. Don't." He grinned.

I couldn't help grinning back. "It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defense.

"I don't think anything could take it out," he agreed with another laugh.

"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed. "Burt's a mechanic; he'd probably love to have you around."

"I'd love to help! I build in my spare time provided I have the parts. Speaking of which, your dad wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added.

"I'll be sure to ask," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." As if I even knew what that was. At least, he was very easy to talk with.

He flashed a brilliant smile, looking at me appreciatively in a way I was learning to recognize. I wasn't the only one who noticed.

"How do you know David, Kurt?" Brittany asked, "I've never seen him at school before..."

"We've sort of known each other since we were born," he laughed, smiling at me again.

"Oh. I'm surprised Lord Tubbington never said anything to me." She was talking about her cat of course, but David didn't know that. He looked at me and asked me what he was missing but all I could do was laugh even harder.

"Kurt," she called again, as if I wasn't laughing at all, "It's a shame your new friend Blaine Cullen couldn't make it today."

At the mention of Blaine's name, a tall older boy looked up. There was a slight look of almost hatred on his face. He was really closer to a man than a boy, and his voice was very deep. "The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject.

Brittany thought nothing of it and was distracted by Lauren asking her to change the music. But I stared at the deep-voiced boy, taken aback, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more — it was as if they weren't allowed. I'd been isolated from a couple of places myself in the past to know that tone. His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it without success.

David interrupted my thoughts. "I can't believe Forks hasn't driven you crazy yet."

"Oh, it's getting there." I grimaced. "I might actually run out of clothes to wear soon."

He grinned understandingly. "I can't imagine how hard that must be for you." He was being sarcastic of course, but there was something about the way that the sun caught his watch which made me raise an eyebrow.

"Says the boy who's wearing Armani on his wrist!"

"Now come on, that doesn't mean that I'm—"

He suddenly stopped.

"That you're what, David?"

He flushed red though I wasn't quite sure what had just happened. "Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" he asked. His eyes were downcast. It was as if he was terribly embarrassed but I had no idea why. I jumped up willingly enough and he grinned, almost in relief.

As we walked north across the beach the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket.

"Kurt," Dave said, staring at the ground as we walked, "When I apologized for calling you all those names when we were younger, I really meant it."

"I know," I smiled, pushing into him a little, trying to lighten the situation. He didn't even budge, but he laughed. "You're trying to take me down Hummel?" He bumped back into me and I almost fell to the floor.

"Swan!" I reminded persistently, though I was grinning widely.

"Always Hummel to me," he said, pretending to nudge me again and laughing as I flinched. "But really, I never should have called you those names."

"It's okay," I said, "We were only kids and it was never physically abusive. At least you never tried to throw me in a dumpster or shove me into a locker."

"Whoa… really?"

I nodded, "I didn't really want to leave Ohio. But at least here, people seem to be more indifferent towards it I guess."

"So you _are_—g-g…" He seemed to have a lot of trouble grasping the word. I decided I'd help him a little.

"_Gay_, David? Is that it?" I sighed but I was smiling. David had just about frozen but to me the whole situation was rather amusing. Coming out to the boy who used to tease me for being a 'fag.' "Yes I am gay." I told him, "I haven't told Burt yet. Still, there are these moments when I think he might know but I haven't said anything to him."

David finally found the ability to move again and nodded, "Can I tell you why after so long I still feel so stupid for picking on you when we were kids?"

"Hmmm, because you've found Jesus and are suddenly a reformed man?"

He laughed, "Well, er no, not exactly. It's just… you made me realize a lot of things about myself and as I grew older I wished I still had you as friend. It would be nice having someone around who, you know, would have really understood what I was going through…"

I turned to face him but he wasn't looking at me. I was instantly curious. "What are you on about, David?"

"I'm not out to anyone but—I'm gay too," he confessed. He let out a deep breath. "It feels so good to finally be able to tell someone!"

"Really?" I was shocked. I would _never_ have picked it. Really, anyone who looked at this guy wouldn't have guessed it. Even Rachel with her self-confessed "gaydar." "That's come as a surprise Dave, I would have sworn I saw you flirting with Lauren."

I was only teasing and though he realized it he still bumped me again, laughing. "She's a little bit too much woman for me to handle," he explained. "Just, please don't tell anyone, okay?"

"Hey!" I said, "We're on the same boat, remember? I promise not to out you if you don't tell Burt!"

"Deal!" He agreed. "And after I get my car finished, I can come up to Forks more often and we can hang out and stuff."

"I'd really like that!" I said, and I meant it. It would be nice spending time with someone, who as Dave put it, understood. I wasn't too sure about his other friends though. "Hey David… who was that other boy Brittany was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us."

"Oh that's Azimio — he's nineteen," he informed me.

"What was that he was saying about that doctor's family?" I asked innocently.

"The Cullens? Oh, they're not allowed on the reservation." He looked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I'd thought I'd heard in Azimio's voice.

"Why not?"

He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "Sorry to be such a buzz-kill but I'm really not supposed to say anything about it."

"Oh, I won't tell anyone, I'm just curious." I tried to make my smile alluring, wondering if now that I knew he was gay too I could work it to my advantage. Like I'd pull it off. I didn't want to use him.

He smiled back, though, looking allured. Then he lifted one eyebrow and his voice was even huskier than before. Ah! Was he _flirting_ with me?

"I don't know… Can you handle scary stories?" he asked ominously.

"I love them," I enthused, "And what's there to be scared about when I've got a football player en garde."

He looked confused, I had let my French slip so I elaborated, "It means I have you on my defense."

"Huh? Oh not that, I was just thinking—I mean I have thrown a few balls around before but—you think I resemble a football player?"

My eyes widened, "Well yeah—from what I've seen Burt watch on TV, you're all jock. Very masculine."

He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his broad lips. I could see he was going to try to make this good. I was really intrigued but I didn't want to be too obvious. I didn't want David to know I was crushing on Blaine which was the real reason I was so intent to find out. Though there was no reason to suggest that he would, I didn't want David to stop talking to me if he found out why I had started talking to him.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from — the Quileutes, I mean?" he began.

"Not really," I admitted.

"Well, there are lots of legends, some of them claiming to date back to the Flood — supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." He smiled, to show me how little stock he put in the histories.

"Another legend claims that we descended from wolves — and that the wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them."

His voice dropped a little lower. "Then there are the stories about the Cold Ones."

"The Cold Ones?" I asked, not faking my intrigue now.

"Yes. There are stories of the Cold Ones as old as the Wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land." He rolled his eyes.

"Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged.

"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the Cold Ones are the natural enemies of the wolf—well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?"

"Only one."

I stared at him earnestly, hoping to disguise my impatience as admiration.

"So you see," David continued, "the Cold Ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did — they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." He winked at me.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why… ?" I tried to understand, struggling not to let him see how seriously I was considering his ghost story.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the Cold Ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." He deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into his tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?"

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead."

I tried to keep my voice casual. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the Cold Ones your great-grandfather met?"

"No." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

He must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by his story. He smiled, pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now; a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the leader, William. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." He was fighting a smile.

"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the Cold Ones?"

He smiled darkly. "Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them…vampires."

I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face was exposing.

"You have goose bumps," he laughed delightedly.

"You're a good storyteller," I complimented him, still staring into the waves.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it to anyone."

I couldn't control my expression enough to look at him yet. "Don't worry, I won't give you away."

"I guess I just violated the treaty," he laughed.

"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Burt. He and Dad almost got into another huge fight when Burt heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

"I won't, of course not. Same way I promised I wouldn't out you to anyone either."

David smiled. I could tell he trusted me and I appreciated it. I might be a gossip queen but I was also incredibly trustworthy.

"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" David asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn't looked away from the ocean.

I turned and smiled at him as normally as I could. "No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goose bumps, see?" I held up my arm.

"Cool." He smiled.

And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see Finn and Rachel about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Kurt!" Finn called in relief, waving his arm over his head. "Mom and Burt would've killed me!"

"I didn't know you had a brother" David said, interpreting Finn's relief as sibling concern.

"Almost step-brother," I whispered. I was tremendously grateful to David for taking me on this walk and clearing so many things up even if he added so much more for me to think about. I winked at him, carefully turning away from Finn to do so.

"So as soon as I get that car up and running…" he began.

"You should come see me in Forks. We should definitely hang out sometime." I felt guilty as I said this, knowing that I'd used him. But despite what had gone down when we were younger, I really did like David now. He was someone I could easily see myself being friends with.

Finn had reached us now, hand in hand with Rachel. I could see his eyes appraising David in an older-brother demeanor—even if he was just that little bit younger than me.

"I'm sorry I wandered Finn, David was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered. "It was really interesting."I smiled at David warmly, and he grinned back.

"Well," Finn paused, carefully reassessing the situation as he watched our camaraderie. "We're packing up — it looks like it's going to rain soon. And if I don't get you home safely Mom and Burt will definitely have me." We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain.

"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming."

"It was nice to see you again," David said, and I could tell he was taunting Finn just a bit.

"It really was. Next time Burt comes down to see Artie, I'll come too," I promised.

His grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool."

"And thanks," I added earnestly.

I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When we got to Finn's car, the others were already loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Tina and Mike as Rachel loudly called out shot gun again.

Mike had his arm over Tina and while they both seemed content to just stare out the window, I still couldn't look at them. I simply lay my head back on the seat and closed my eyes trying very hard not to think.


	7. Chapter 7: Nightmare

A/N: So, uh, I said although it would be very similar, that I was changing this from Twilight. And it's… well, different. You have been warned. Kurt is a teenage boy with hormones. That is all. Just read the ratings, people! I own nothing.

Chapter Seven – _**Nightmare**_

_Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no_

_Figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with_

_Such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost_

_Nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the_

_Mysterious and terrible qualities of both.—Rev. Montague Summers_

When Finn dropped me off that evening, I wasn't surprised to see that Burt wasn't alone—Carole was snuggled up beside him on the couch and they were watching the basketball game, looking very cozy. It was almost cute. I smiled.

"Hey, look who came back! How was the beach, son?"

"It was great." I answered lazily, hoping the sarcasm wasn't too evident as I turned to Carole, "Uh, Finn's just had to drop Mike and Tina home but he'll be back to pick you up soon."

I was such a good brother. Of course, I was lying. Finn just wanted to spend more 'alone time' with Rachel, even though they'd both be coming back here. Finn was so indecisive. One second he's complaining she's too clingy, the next he can't get enough of her. Were all couples like that?

I moved to walk upstairs to my room but apparently my sarcasm hadn't gone past Burt who, I guess, had dealt enough with it by now to know the difference.

"You okay, Kurt?"

_Let me see… um, no_. My head was still full with thoughts of Blaine and David and his "scary stories." Being forced to remember it now was dangerous. I needed to distract myself from thinking about Blaine before I did something stupid like talk about him.

"I'm fine. Just tired and I have, you know, heaps of homework…" I shrugged but Burt didn't look convinced.

"Homework? Better get on it. You sure everything's okay?"

_Lie harder, Kurt_. I thought furiously.

"Oh! Um, I met with Artie's son, Dad. You remember—David?"

This distracted Burt easily enough, "Yeah, young David Black… how could I forget?"

The tone in his voice wasn't fooling anyone—Carole noticed the tension and leaned forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Burt sighed.

"He didn't say nothing to you, did he? That would explain why you're down now and stuff."

I shook my head, "Actually, if you must know, he was a perfect gentleman. Took me for a walk on the beach, apologized over and over again for something that happened years ago. He's different now. I think we might even become friends. He was really sorry."

"He doesn't sound too bad," Carole offered, "May I ask what actually happened?"

Burt filled her in. She raised her hand to her mouth and gasped.

"Trust me; I had a good word with Artie as a result. I had every right. Calling _my_ son a… If you ask me that Dave kid's a hypocrite! I've seen the queer way his mind works. Biggest closest case if I ever saw one."

At the mention of the 'q' word, Carole immediately shot a look in my direction and though I hadn't intended to I caught her eye. As if a silent agreement passed through us, I knew in that very moment she understood. A strange feeling passed through me as though even though I had lost Elizabeth, I could still be happy having Carole as a surrogate mother.

"Did Finn say how long he'd be?" she asked. I had the feeling she had only said anything to change the topic for which I was grateful.

"Stay a bit longer!" Burt insisted, "I'll drive you home if you like."

While they shared their moment, I found the right one to finally escape into my room

Bad mistake.

I should've just forced myself to watch that game. At least some of the players were cute.

Because up here, alone in my room, there was nothing to distract me from my thoughts. And my thoughts led once more to Blaine. The mystery of him consumed me. I walked over to my bed, kicked off my shoes and lay back closing my eyes. I pictured his warm chocolate curls, his beautiful hazel eyes, the way his smile made my own stretch out far too long and how it just didn't matter to me what, if anything, he was.

Somewhere, in the midst of my daydream, I fell into a real one.

I was in a forest. It was dark and silent, but I wasn't alone. David Black was standing beside me, holding my hand. He looked really worried, pulling me towards the darkest part of the forest. I didn't struggle to let go but I didn't want to be following him either.

"Dave, what's wrong?" I asked; I didn't want to go where it was darker. I wanted light. I wanted to be able to see. He looked frightened.

"Run, Kurt!" You have to run!" he whispered, pleading.

"This way, Kurt!" Finn's voice suddenly called out to me in the darkness.

"Why?" I asked; I tightened my grip on David's hand desperately—we were going in the wrong direction.

But Dave suddenly let go of my hand, as he fell to the floor twitching uncontrollably. I gasped in horror.

"David!" I yelled—but he had disappeared. In his place was a large brown wolf with familiar eyes…

"Kurt, run!" Finn ordered protectively crying out behind me. But I couldn't even move. A light was coming towards me in the opposite direction from which I had been running. I stopped, staring at it transfixed.

And then Blaine stepped out from behind the trees and the image of him took my breath away. He wore only fading fitted jeans as his chest was bare, glowing as he radiated light. His eyes however, were charcoal and dangerous. He held out his hand to me.

The Dave-Wolf responded negatively, growling by my feet.

I took a step towards Blaine. He smiled, bearing his teeth which looked sharp and pointed.

"Trust me, Kurt," he said simply.

I took another step.

The wolf launched himself between me and the vampire. I yelled out—

The scene shifted. I was sitting upright in my bed and Rachel and Finn were by my door looking very concerned.

"Kurt?" Finn asked awkwardly, "Are you okay? We heard yelling."

I touched my forehead—I had broken out into a sweat. "Nightmare," I admitted, "But I'm fine. Where are Dad and Carole?"

"They went out. We're staying here for the night." He turned to his girlfriend while he spoke, "Rachel is staying too though Mom says the three of us have to sleep in the same room, separately. It's okay with you, right?"

What did I have to lose? The images of my nightmare floated ever vivid in my head and I knew that the worst thing right now was for me to be alone.

"Sure!" I shrugged, "Rachel can have my bed but Dad and I have sleeping bags in the attic if you don't mind, Finn."

At first, my potential step-brother stared at me blankly. But it wasn't till I gestured he go there did he realize what I was trying to say.

"Oh! I'll be right back!" He gently kissed Rachel's forehead as he left.

Rachel, still looking very worried, continued to stand by the door but did not say anything. I was confused. It was very odd finding her so out of character—even if it was only because her mouth was actually shut.

"What's wrong?" I said, breaking the silence.

"…Blaine," she whispered only loud enough that I just heard it, "I don't think Finn picked up on it—but then again he's never really been tuned in when it comes to these things. But I heard you. I heard you yell his name. Like you were frightened for him. What exactly were you dreaming about?"

This was Rachel at her most innocent. I had never seen her so concerned before. And I wanted to tell her, but even though I knew it was insane, I felt like I would be betraying Blaine if I did.

"I-I don't remember," I finally said, "But I was thinking of him today. He probably just slipped into my consciousness when I was dreaming."

It was a solid enough lie but Rachel wasn't buying it.

"Kurt—I know sometimes I can come off as a little arrogant because let's face it—my dads taught me to think the world of myself. But I'm not oblivious. I know that I'm not as pretty as Quinn Hale or as… _adventurous _as Tina Weber but one thing's for sure is that I'm loyal. I'm loud and confident but I care about my friends and I hope that whatever it is you're hiding you feel safe enough to know that one day, when you're ready, you can confide in me."

Her speech had me stunned. It was so selfless. I wanted to say something really cliché like 'I don't know what you're talking about,' or 'I'm not hiding anything.' I mean it's not as if I could tell her, 'Oh, I think Blaine might be a vampire.' So I kept my head down and nodded. Accepting my non-verbal answer, Rachel walked over to me on the bed and sat down beside me holding my hand.

Not ten seconds later, Finn returned. He had located the sleeping bags which he had placed onto a sealed box from the move that I didn't recognized but should have.

It was labeled _Artie Black_.

"Finn…" I said slowly, "That box…? What's going on?"

He walked inside and placed it on the floor near our feet.

"Okay, I swear I wasn't snooping but when I was upstairs this box was already opened and while I'm not much of a reader—"

"I can second that!" Rachel cut in.

"—I just thought these books addressed to Burt would be rather interesting to look at."

I highly doubted how it was possible that Finn could find anything interesting that was given to Burt from Artie in book format, especially when it was most likely about fishing, or why something like that could interest either me or Rachel. She was the first to look inside.

"Finn, honey, I've already explained to you that fishing isn't my forte."

_I knew it!_ I thought. I mentally handed myself a Rachel-approved gold star.

Finn grinned mischievously. "But that's just the thing! These _aren't _fishing books."

This time Rachel was _not_ getting in first. I took the first book out of the box and stared at the cover: _World's Greatest Catches of the Last Century._ There was a picture of a man standing in a boat holding up an extremely large fish.

"Oh yes. I can see what you mean now…"

He rolled his eyes, "Would you just open to the middle already?"

My voice was lost in my throat as I flicked through the pages—I couldn't tell who was more unattractive, the old men or the fish—but then I reached the middle of the book.

The title glared at me like a homophobic closet case: _Vampires A-Z._

I could see Finn staring at me from the corner of his eye. "Told you! And to prove my point further—they're _all_ like that!"

He was right; they _were_ all filled with knowledge about vampires including one called _Danag_ a Filipino blood-sucking demon and another titled _Stregoni: The Italian Evil_.

"Oh. My. God!" Rachel exclaimed in a way that suggested going to Paris was free. "Why would Mr. Black hide notes about vampires inside fishing books? Has your Dad ever said anything to you about this, Kurt?"

"No," I answered truthfully, flicking through the pages. I let go of the book tossing it into the box, this was all just too much to comprehend in one night. I shoved the box under my bed, resisting temptation to confide in Rachel and Finn. _Hey guys, I think the Cullens might be vampires and Artie's descended from wolves so he's just trying to warn Burt…_

It was obvious that Artie would try to warn Burt, they were good friends after all… which left one burning question: Did Dad know the truth about the Cullens?

I had to distract all of us before it got too far, "Hey you guys wanna watch something? One nightmare's enough; I don't want to go to sleep dreaming about vampires!"

We settled to re-runs of _Friends_. I moved straight for my sleeping bag but Finn remained near Rachel where they eventually fell asleep—both fully clothed—on my bed.

I turned off the TV and hit the lights but I could not sleep. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I had a little nap just after I had come home or to the box labeled _Artie Black_ that was silently screaming at me from under to my bed to retrieve it.

There were far too many thoughts to process. First, I had to decide if what David had said about the Cullens was true.

Like, hell no. It was far too stupid to believe such ridiculous notions. I may as well believe Wonder Woman was real.

But then if not vampires, what exactly were they?

For one, there was no reason to explain why I was still alive. Brittany should have crushed me. I realized several things: Blaine had incredible speed and strength, his eyes changed color and he was inhumanly gorgeous. There was also the fact that he never seemed to eat, the dapper other-worldly way he spoke. He had skipped class when we'd done blood typing. He hadn't turned down the beach till he knew where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone was thinking… except me. He had told me, pretty much outright, that he was a dangerous villain…

So I guess the answer was kinda obvious, huh? Blaine could be a vampire.

Well, he was _something_ and it was definitely not human. So then—what was I going to do about it?

I could take his advice: be smart, avoid him, tell him to leave me alone and mean it except—that would never work. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew, I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now.

~.~

It was almost noon when I woke up the next day. I didn't remember falling asleep. Rachel and Finn were already gone. I brushed my teeth, quickly changed my clothes and made my way downstairs.

Burt was alone, finishing the dishes. It looked like he'd just finished up on breakfast.

"Morning!" he greeted cheerily, "Or should I say afternoon? Carole left you some food in the oven to keep warm. They only just left. We didn't want to wake you. Nice day outside, isn't it?"

He seemed… too oddly cheerful and I mentioned this to him.

"Yes," he agreed, "I've just been… doing some thinking. And—you know your mom, she—meant the _world _to me, but—"

"You're in love with Carole," I stated.

Burt didn't answer. He didn't have to. I walked over to him and hugged him tightly.

"I think Mom would have wanted you to move on with your life. I'm sure she's at peace, knowing you're happy. And… I love Carole too. I think she's great for both of us. Finn, too, would make a great brother. Just don't hesitate because of me."

Burt smiled and broke the embrace, "You get your homework done last night?"

_Oh shit._

"What do you think? You not only let my friends sleepover but your girlfriend insisted they join me in my room. We were bad little children and talked watched TV all night. And Finn and I found something in the attic."

I didn't want to put all the blame on Finn especially when the box was now lying under my bed.

"Yes?" Burt pressed curiously.

"When we got our sleeping bags, there was a box… with Artie Black's name on it."

Burt to my surprise chuckled softly. "Oh that! Yeah it's from the move. For years, every birthday of mine, good ol' Artie will send me a fishing book without fail. Not that I've read any of them. Firstly, I'm not much of a reader and everything I've learned about fishing never came out of no goddamn book! Still, don't have the heart to throw them out and they're safe up there—not like Artie can just walk up into the attic unannounced."

I nodded, the smile on my face only present because this meant that Burt didn't know Blaine's secret. I was sad too—I would have loved to be able to confide in at least one person I knew who wouldn't think I was crazy—but in the end, it was just better that he never found out, even if it meant screening his birthday presents from here on out.

~.~

I was finishing my homework on the kitchen table the next morning. Burt had already left; he was getting a lot busier these days since his business was making more of a name. I supposed this was some thanks to Carole who had taken to advertising in her own shop but hell; you weren't going to see me complaining,

Despite my rushed efforts to finish my homework, I was one of the first to arrive at school. I parked and headed towards the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were only a little damp but I was wearing good jeans and there was clearly no reason to spoil them so I took out a hanky and placed it gently on the seat before sitting down. I rolled my sleeves up as far as I could and let my exposed skin enjoy the rare sunlight of the morning.

"Kurt!" I heard someone call, and it sounded just like Finn. I looked around to realize the school was becoming more populated—maybe I hadn't arrived as early as I thought. Everyone was decked in summer gear though it couldn't have been more than sixty. Finn was coming towards me in khaki shorts and a rugby tee.

"Hey Finn!" I greeted, as he came to sit by me. The obviously still damp seat clearly did not worry him.

"Sorry we left before you woke up that day. You know when you take a girl home, you're meant to be worried of the girl's _father_ right? What is he thinking? Am I a nice guy? Have I brought her home at the right time? Does he mind if I continue to see his daughter? Rachel however, like you know, has two dads. I sorta have my work cut out for me!"

"It's okay, I understand. Your mom is an excellent cook by the way. She made a really good breakfast. Still trying to decide if she's better than me in the kitchen…"

Finn laughed, "Don't let her hear you saying that! Though I'm sure she appreciates having someone else around who can cook!"

There was a small pause and then, "Do you think our parents will get married?"

I didn't hesitate, "I hope so."

"Really?" Finn was smiling and I nodded. I meant it. I hadn't just been nice to Burt. I liked Carole and Finn would make an awesome brother.

"Yes. They seem really happy together and you're not nearly half as annoying as you come across!"

"Hey!" he nudged me playfully and I was immediately reminded of David. I briefly wondered what he'd be doing now.

It was time for class so we got our stuff and headed towards building three catching up with Rachel and the others as we got closer. Rachel was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Tina and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance and she wanted me to come so I could shower her with good advice. Of course I said I'd come. I didn't think I'd have too many chances in Forks to go shopping but I'd had to ask Burt's permission first.

I was euphoric—sunlight and shopping plans, what an ultimate combination for the start of the week. Rachel talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without interruption when it ended and we were on our way to lunch. I was so wrapped in our conversation of endless dress colors and possible hair designs that I almost forgot my usual routine of doing a one-over at the Cullen table.

It was empty.

My heart sank. I scoured the rest of the cafeteria but Blaine and his family was nowhere to be seen. The high of my sudden shopping excursion started to lose its appeal.

I reached our table purposely taking a seat next to Finn knowing that Rachel would take his other side and be distracted from talking to me any further. Tina asked me too if I was coming tonight (or rather it wasn't a question, she pretty much told me I had to) and I agreed because now I _needed_ the distraction and really hoped Burt would agree to letting me go out.

After school ended, I couldn't be gladder to get off campus. Shopping was even starting to sound wonderful again.

When I got home however, Rachel called. To cancel.

"Is it okay if I reschedule to tomorrow night? My dads have invited Finn over for dinner and I don't want to make an excuse not to go."

Even though I felt myself cringe, I told her it was okay and also that I'd be free tomorrow night to go then. I knew Finn would thank me even if he was nervous about making a good impression after dating Rachel for years.

She must've noticed something in my voice because her concerned demeanor was coming through the line, "Is everything okay, Kurt? I mean, I know you're excited about heading out to Port Angeles with us but you still seemed sort of down… this wouldn't have anything to do with Blaine not being at school today?"

God, that girl didn't miss anything. She was almost as bad as Burt. I sighed into the phone. "Maybe."

I could hear her giggle, "I knew it! I _knew_ you liked him! Can I tell Finn?"

"No, Rachel!"

"What about my dads?"

"Good bye Rachel."

I hung up the phone before she could protest but I had a stupid teenage grin plastered all over my face.

Yeah, I liked Blaine.

There is only so much a person can do for you before it's impossible not to like them—and saving your life amongst being impractically perfect and drop dead gorgeous were among some of those things.

Come dinner, I had little to distract myself. I had fish marinating from Burt's latest outdoor adventure with Artie and there was leftover salad and bread from the night before, so there was nothing else to prepare. I spent a good half hour concentrating on my homework but I ended up doodling dresses I thought would look good on Rachel. So I ended up getting my iPod out and headed for the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.

Outside in our small square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the tree's shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my back, turned on my iPod and began to daydream…

"_How can I decide what's right?_

_When you're clouding up my mind?_

_I can't win your losing fight, all the time."_

Well that couldn't be a coincidence. I meant to press next but must've hit fast forward…

"_The truth is lying in your eyes, and it's hanging on your tongue,_

_Just boiling in my blood._

_But you think that I can't see what kind of man that you are;_

_If you're a man at all._

_Well, I will figure this one out_

_On my own…_

_(I'm screaming 'I love you so',)_

_On my own…_

_(My thoughts you can't decode)."_

I angrily shut off my iPod and threw it on the grass. I always used music to relate. But this was just downright freaky.

I shut my eyes. I pushed my sleeves up as high as they would go, and thought of nothing but the warmth on my skin. I focused on the heat that touched my eyelids, my cheekbones, my nose, my lips, my forearms, my neck, soaked through my light shirt…

But I still couldn't stop thinking of him.

I could see him so clearly in my daydream, his face so full of gorgeous light. Just like he had been in my nightmare, Blaine was shirtless again but this… this didn't feel like a nightmare. This, the image of him, that radiantly glowing chest, this I never wanted to wake from.

It was if he were here with me in my backyard reaching over to me from where I lay. As he bent closer to me and I felt the wind blowing through my hair, it was as if here were there doing the very same with his breath. He blew softly against my skin, his beautiful cool hands running over my chest, under my shirt, and he was there to reach, my own hands running through his chocolate curls as he roamed my body, slowly travelling south.

My belt was loosened. No words were spoken and yet Blaine knew I needed to be touched. Right there. Now. His hands finally reached me exactly where I wanted them slowly at first, but persistent, in time, then, picking up speed faster and faster. I moaned. If only he were here but if that couldn't happen this dream was downright the next best thing.

It became faster and harder and I moaned louder screaming out as I shuddered. My body trembled as I realized what had happened. I shot my eyes open fast and assessed my surroundings. I was in my backyard, my pants were hanging on my knees, Blaine was obviously nowhere in sight, and the sticky wide residue of my come was wet all over my stomach.

Ew. The last time I had pictured anyone it had been Patrick Swayze from Ghost. Not to say that I hadn't explored again since then. I was a teenage boy after all. But it had never been this intense and I couldn't feel guilty about enjoying it. It was Blaine's eyes I had pictured full of lust, Blaine's body I had imagined glowing, Blaine's hands on my previously hardened cock…

When the feeling eventually returned in my body, I suddenly realized how dark it was. With a sudden guilty pang, I also realized that dinner would be late. I hurried inside, tossed my iPod on my dresser, washing and changing very quickly, just making it downstairs in time to hear Burt pulling up on the driveway. He walked in looking happy enough.

"Mmm. That must be the fish I caught the other day! It smells real good, Kurt."

"Thanks! Sorry it's late. I… er, fell asleep outside." I appropriately yawned for good acting measure.

He shrugged, "The sun must've made you lazy. S'ok. As long as you enjoyed it while you could! I'm gonna go check the score on TV, take your time."

I watched TV with Burt after dinner, for something to do. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it on to the last show I'd expect to watch with him: _Will and Grace._

My eyes grew wide even though he seemed happy to be doing something together with me. And from the way Burt laughed I could tell he liked this show more than he should.

"_Jazz hands!" Jack called out to Will_. He was waving his hands around like a fabulous diva. I threw my face into my hands unable to worry about Burt's expression.

But he was laughing. "That Jack kid, he reminds me of you a bit."

"What?" I immediately turned my head to face him but he was still smiling.

"You know, he likes the arts and stuff and it just reminded me of how excited you got when I took you to see that Wizard of Oz show about witches… what was it called again?"

"_Wicked_," I sighed, "But Dad… Jack's gay."

"So?" he shrugged, "Nothing wrong with that."

I was confused, "But you said Dave was—"

"A hypocrite, yeah. And hypocrites I can't stand no matter what race, sex or gender. You okay, Kurt? You look worried. Something on your mind?"

Carole. Carole. Carole. Carole must have talked to Burt, it was the only reason he'd figured it out. Or had he? He had made a valid point—I had really enjoyed Wicked and Jack loved the arts…. But it didn't make sense for her to tell him. She hadn't even talked to me about it, why would she go running to Burt? Maybe I was just being paranoid. Now was as good as any time to tell him but… I still wasn't ready.

"Actually, Dad…"

"Yeah?"

"Rachel and Tina are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose… do you mind if I go with them?"

"Rachel Stanley? Finn's girl?"

"And Tina Weber." I nodded.

"Kurt, it's a school night…."

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early."

He was confused, "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, Dad, but I'm helping _them_ find dresses—you know, giving them constructive criticism."

"Okay, but you keep your phone on you just in case you need to reach me."

"Will do. I'll leave some cold meat for sandwiches in the fridge, okay?"

He smiled, "No need. I'll probably be at Carole's."

I smiled back. Crisis averted. For now…

~.~

It was sunny again in the morning. I awakened with renewed hope glad that I would have something different to wear today.

I planned my arrival at school so that I barely had time to make it for class. With a sinking heart, I realized the silver Volvo was not there. I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless, but subdued, before the final bell.

It was the same as yesterday — I knew he wouldn't be there but I searched the lunchroom anyway, in vain and sat at my empty Biology table.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and so my spirits became higher again. I was anxious to get out of town so I could stop glancing over my shoulder, hoping to see him appearing out of the blue the way he always did. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin Rachel's or Tina's enjoyment in the dress hunting. Or mine for that matter. Maybe I could do a little clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend, scared he may no longer be interested in the earlier arrangement. But surely he wouldn't cancel without at least telling me.

After school, Rachel followed me home so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I quickly messaged Burt to let him know we were on our way and that I would text him again on arrival, switched my Dior wallet out of my school bag into my Prada satchel, and ran out to join Rachel, new outfit and all. I never thought I'd ever get the chance to wear this in Forks but I came prepared regardless. We went to Tina's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits.

A/N: **Lyrics taken from **_**Decode**_** by Paramore. **

Also… I will be leaving for holidays to Europe on the 18th of this month! I guess the saddest part is I won't be able to watch gLee for a month (especially when it's all so Klaine-centric now!) but also **I won't be able to update till I get back.** I will try my damn hardest to get another chapter out before then but I can't promise anything :( I just want you to know that I haven't abandoned this story! Please review!


	8. Chapter 8: Port Angeles

A/N:Where did everybody go? I mean I know I've just come back from vacation but it's like everyone just disappeared! Hope you guys are okay! All save two readers, I didn't hear from anyone last chapter…

This chapter is dedicated to **clovrboy** for being the most loyal reader out there. I will continue this story, if only for you :) Does anybody else want me to?

Also three words: The First Time.

DEAD. That is all.

Chapter Eight – **Port****Angeles**

Rachel Stanley drove slower than anyone I had ever met and there was no way I was letting Brittany, who was tagging along with us last minute, drive after the truck incident. So after Lauren had argued that there was no way we were getting to Port Angeles by four with Rachel in front, we stopped at a gas station and changed drivers. Except now that Rachel was besides Tina and me in the back, she decided now was as good as time as any to go over all the details of her dinner affair with Finn and her dads.

"He was so nervous," she giggled, "When we sat down to eat, he missed his chair and fell on the floor!"

Tina giggled sighing, "Finn's still lucky though. I think your two dads are a lot easier to handle than Mike's very Asian parents."

We talked more of the event and I was content as Lauren definitely drove a lot better than Rachel. As we neared Port Angeles, I felt my excitement grow. I sat in the middle, speaking to all of them. "Now just remember ladies, this is a _semiformal_ event. We don't want to go all out just yet. Give those boys something to look at yes, but we still have to hold out for prom which is where we want to make a real statement. So, today's dresses should reflect a taste of what to expect come the end of the year."

I felt Rachel brush my arm, "You _are_ coming to prom, right?"

Before I could answer, Brittany cut in, "Of course he is. He's going with me."

"Actually Brittany," I interjected, proud with the news I was about to deliver, "I got a call from Santana Clearwater, you know, from the res, confirming that you are in fact _not_ going with me."

"I told you it wasn't true," Rachel murmured to Tina.

While Tina and Rachel gossiped, I looked out the window to find my dream revealed before my eyes: a shopping mall. An actual real life shopping mall!

I was so excited that Lauren was forced to let me out before she had even parked. I stood between Tina and Rachel, arms linked in theirs, as Rachel gave directions to where the dress shop was.

My face immediately fell. And not in the good way. I could have died.

"Is that it?" I asked incredulously. I could fit my entire wardrobe into that store. In fact, the clothes I was wearing were probably worth more than the entire store's items combined.

"I have bad news girls," I said quietly, "Given with what we have to work with, making you look good is going to be harder than I thought."

Rachel sighed, "Look, I know it's not much but worst case scenario, you'll help us design our own dresses if all else fails right?"

I gave her one glance all over and then let out a deep breath in response ushering her and the others inside into the much too tiny store.

Fifteen minutes later, I had almost made them try on nearly every dress worth trying in the shop. Which wasn't saying much, given the size of it. I was beginning to lose my patience. And the girls were starting to tell from my advice.

"Rachel, why must you insist on looking like a grandmother? Somewhere, Barbra is crying."

"Tina, ditch the fangs, you are not a freaking vampire."

"Lauren, go with the blue, we've already decided lemon makes you look like a meringue pie."

"Brittany, for all that is holy and Gaga, you've got the dress on _backwards_!"

Another fifteen minutes later and finally, _finally_, I had them looking—decent. Rachel had agreed to a dress that didn't look like it had been handed down. Tina's own individual gothic style was still apparent but she had agreed to forgo the cape. Lauren was spectacular in navy blue and even Brittany had somehow managed to look ravishing—when she put the dress on correctly. Although…

"You know what, I think we need to accessorize with some heels."

The girls cheered. Oh my. Shoe shopping. My next to favorite thing to clothes shopping. No, I didn't own any heels, save the ones I used to try on when I was three, but that didn't mean I didn't have an eye for them.

"Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! All four of you are doing it wrong! Haven't any of you girl's worn heels before?"

"One of my dad's can," Rachel said, "Inherently I should have got that gene. I didn't."

"I own the hell out of ballet flats Swan," Lauren shrugged, "I ain't used to wearing no heels."

Tina shrugged too, "Sorry Kurt, just boots and platforms on these tiny feet."

We all turned to Brittany who was looking at us curiously. "What?" she asked. "I trip when I wear my Havaiana flip flops."

I raised a hand to my forehead, "Great! So none of you know how to walk in them?"

I was immediately curious at the smirk on Rachel's face.

"What?" I asked her.

She looked incredibly smug, "Well—I was just thinking—why don't you just show us how to do it then?"

It wasn't bitchy, it was merely a request. I looked at them hesitantly, "What makes you think I know how to wear them? I just know you're doing it wrong, because I happen to watch _Project__Runway_ a lot and I've _seen_ how you're supposed to wear them correctly."

The girls made awkward looks amongst each other, all of them angling to say something but Brittany approached me first, holding a pair of shiny red heels in her hand. "Maybe if you wear these ones, we can just pretend you're Dorothy and then it wouldn't matter that you were wearing them."

I raised an eyebrow, "I get the sentiment Britt, but I still can't try these on."

Five minutes later and I was converted. "I don't know how you girls talked me into this but—"

Lauren was fast to interrupt, "Oh shut it Swan and strut your stuff."

And so hand on hip and poker face on—I did. The girls clapped and cheered and yelled that I was incredible. It wasn't such a big thing—wearing heels. But the way these girls made me feel so masculine over effeminacy without passing any judgment, for merely accepting it, for accepting _me_ the way I was, was in short, amazing.

Until-

"Nice shoes fag!"

Our mood immediately flat lined. We all looked up to see what was going on and I felt my body flush with embarrassment. Four burly Neanderthal looking men were staring at us from the outside of the shop. Two of them were doubled back with laughter. One of them was holding a beer. The one who had called out was looking at me like I had personally insulted him for wearing heels. He spoke again.

"Hey fairy homo, we were just wondering—shouldn't you be off somewhere sucking cock right now?"

I was too embarrassed to say anything so I kept my mouth shut. I felt Lauren however brush past as she moved in front of me protectively.

"Leave him alone asshole!" she hissed.

The men jeered but the ring leader took no offense. "Or what, Big Momma? You're going to go all Nutty Professor and sit on me? "

Lauren rolled her eyes. "Ummm... No. Here's what's going to happen. You're gonna see just exactly why I won my National Wrestling championship three years in a row."

She balled her fists but the guy still looked unimpressed—except Lauren wasn't finished yet. "You're _also_ gonna get your eyes clawed out by a woman my girl Brittany is in cahoots with." She gestured to the blonde behind her who was looking so evilly at them that it was obvious Santana had taught her well. Lauren kept going, "Furthermore, you're gonna feel the wrath of Berry's _two_dad's when they hear what you've been calling my friend and oh yeah, you see my Asian bestie to the right of me? Vampire. Uh huh. Now scram!"

The biggest one of the lot spat on the floor menacingly as they walked away. Lauren placed a hand on my shoulder. "You okay, Kurt?"

"I'm f-fine," I admitted, still a little shaky. "Thanks for sticking up for me." And then, I just had to ask.

"Ladies, I have something to say." The words came out confident but I couldn't look at them and I struggled with how to correctly be articulate about this. "It's not er, is it obvious that I'm-"

"That you're lady fabulous?" Tina finished for me. "I don't know about 'obvious' but sure, we knew. But we don't care. We just never brought it up because it's never been a big deal for us. And look who you're hanging out with? Berry with her two dads, Brittany with her Santana rendezvous, Lauren with her no weave attitude and _me,_who would make out with anyone regardless of sex or gender… we're the least homophobic people in the world. It doesn't matter to us who you love, Kurt. We'll still always gonna love _you_ regardless."

I wanted to reach out and hug her but I was still too shaky from the encounter. So instead I kept my head down. "My dad doesn't know," I told them quietly, even though I wasn't entirely sure why I was saying it.

"And he doesn't have to—not till you're ready," Rachel smiled.

I smiled back but only quickly, there was something nagging at me. "I'm so sorry I froze back there. I feel so pathetic." It was really insane what had happened.

But the girls wouldn't hear it. "It's all good boo, we've got your back." Lauren added. "Now I believe we haven't quite finished our lesson here. I didn't just drive all the way down here to return to Forks without shoes."

Later on, we planned to go to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the boardwalk, but it was still too early to eat, so the girls were going to take their shopping back to the car and walk by the bay. I told them I would meet them at the restaurant in an hour—all this shopping for other people made me hungry to do some of my own. They were all more than willing to come with me but I didn't think they truly realized what they were getting themselves in for so I encouraged them to go on instead. They walked off to the car chattering happily and I made my way back into the mall.

The choice of clothes for men was even more dismal than it was for women. I should have expected as much but the selection was so poor even Burt wouldn't manage to find a shirt he liked over here. There had to be a normal clothing store somewhere in town.

I strolled through the streets, which were starting to fill now with traffic, and hoped I was heading towards downtown. I wasn't paying as much attention as I should to where I was going but I was distracted. I had had an amazing day, save one incident, and my thoughts quickly found themselves leading astray to Blaine. I wondered if his family did camping a lot. They must be really outdoorsy.

I continued south, towards a few shops that looked promising, but when I finally reached they weren't even clothing shops at all. Lost in my excitement, I suppose. I still had too much time to start heading back to the restaurant and I needed to stop thinking about _him_ before I met back with the girls so I could talk coherently. I continued around the corner.

I started to realize, as I crossed another road, that I was going in the wrong direction. The buildings here looked mostly like warehouses. I decided I'd get to the next corner, and then try my luck on a different route on my way back to the boardwalk.

A group of guys turned around the corner I was heading for, dressed far too familiarly. As they approached me, I realized with sudden certain dread that I knew exactly who they were. They were joking loudly amongst themselves, laughing and punching each other's arms. There were more beers among them too.

"Hey, look who it is!" one of them called. "It's Lady-Face!" I glanced up automatically. Two of them paused, the other two were slowing. The closest one, the one who did the most talking, could have easily been in his early twenties. He was wearing a flannel shirt open over a dirty t-shirt, cut-off jeans and sandals. He took half a step towards me.

"Boo." He simply said. I quickly looked away and walked faster. I could hear them laughing and it chilled me to the bone.

"Why aren't you off sucking cock? Bet you're missing your fag-loving entourage now, aren't you, faggot?"

I kept my head down and rounded the corner. I could still hear their laughter as I left them behind me. I found myself on a sidewalk leading past the back of several warehouses, padlocked for the night. It was getting dark, I realized, the clouds finally returning and creating an early sunset. I'd left my jacket in the car, and a sudden shiver made me cross my arms tightly across my chest. Save for a single van that passed me, the road was empty.

The sky darkened further, and, as I looked over my shoulder to glare at the offending cloud, I realized with a shock that the two men were following me, making their ways towards me.

"Oh c'mon, we just wanna talk! We were just wondering something…"

I froze. My body was trembling with fear but I found the courage to talk. "What do you want?" I said, breathlessly, though in my panic it came out in more of a squeak.

"Well—you see, if you get into a fight with a gay kid, and he wins, does that then make him a man?"

"I d-don't know."

"Really?" the guy questioned sarcastically, "How about we find out?"

I shook my head frightened, and started walking backwards fast before turning and breaking into a small run. A chill that had nothing to do with the weather made me shiver again. I thought about throwing my wallet at them and then running as fast as I could but it was obvious that they weren't after me for money.

I tried to listen out for their footsteps but could hear nothing but my stammering heart. I had to constantly remind myself to breathe too. I continued with my almost run, focusing on reaching the next turn. The street ended at the next corner.

I didn't know what else to do. I knew they could outrun me in any case and was not sure why they hadn't tried yet. It seemed to take forever to reach the end and I didn't know how long I could keep this pace up. I had to remind myself that there would be more people once I got off this deserted street. I skipped around the corner with a grateful sigh.

And skidded to a stop.

The street was lined on both sides with blank walls. No doors, no windows. The next pedestrian was in the distance, much too far away. And lounging at the end of the street, were the other two men from the group, both watching with scary smiles as I froze dead on the sidewalk. I turned around to find the first two men from before so I couldn't go back. I knew exactly what was happening. I was being surrounded.

The distance between them and me was growing smaller. I praised all that was holy for my good high pitched scream, ready to use it, wishing I had something other than my too delicate hands to swing at them.

"Stay away from me!" I yelled but they snickered looming in closer.

"I say we start with his face. I'd kick him in the groin but he probably doesn't have one!"

I braced myself, feet apart, trying to remember through my panic what little self-defense I knew. Then a voice in my head spoke up saying I probably wouldn't have a chance against one of them let alone four. I tried to swallow so I could build up a decent scream but nothing came out. I felt the force of the first guy as he shoved me hard against his friend who caught me, holding my arms down painfully so.

Without anything to cover my face, I watched as the first guy held his fist to me.

Headlights suddenly flew around the corner, the car almost hitting one of them, forcing the others to jump back into the sidewalk. I was still pinned by the guy holding my arms but I yelled. The car turned around skidding to a stop.

It was amazing how instantaneous the choking fear vanished, amazing how suddenly the feeling of security washed over me, the second I saw him step out of the car. The look on his face was blazing. I'd never seen him so angry.

"Let. Him. Go."

I felt freedom and rushed over to his side. "Get in the car," he commanded.

I heard the lock click, the second I shut the door.

And then there was a monstrous yell. I spun my head instantly to look out the window.

Blaine was holding two of the men above his head who were both yelling profanities—but not for long—they were then thrown against the other two where they ended up as a heap of tangled bodies on the floor. Blaine then got back into the car.

It was dark in here, and I could barely see his face in the glow of the dashboard. The tires squealed as he spun around, accelerating too quickly, swerving towards the stunned men on the street. I caught a glimpse of them scrambling to get away as we sped for the harbor.

"Put on your seatbelt, Kurt," Blaine reminded and I quickly obeyed; the snap of the seatbelt was loud in the darkness. Blaine took a sharp turn left, racing forward, blowing through several stop signs.

But I felt utterly safe and, for the moment, totally unconcerned about where we going. I tried to study his expression but it worried me—he looked murderously angry. We had come to a stop.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"No," he answered immediately. "Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Are _you_ okay?"

I breathed in softly, "I am now," I whispered.

"Distract me, please," he begged.

"I'm sorry, what?"

He exhaled sharply.

"Will you hold my hand until I calm down?" He closed his eyes, one hand stationary on the wheel, one hand extended towards me.

"Um." I wracked my brain to work. And then slowly, I took his hand into mine. It was cold and felt like marble. Blaine sighed rubbing tracing circles around my hand with his thumb. Sighing, he opened his eyes.

"Better?" I whispered.

"Not really."

I waited, but he didn't speak again. He leaned his head back against the seat, staring at the ceiling of the car, gripping my hand just that little more gently. His face was rigid.

"What's wrong, Blaine?"

He let out a deep breath again. "I'm trying to convince myself that it _wouldn__'__t_ be helpful to turn around and hunt those…" He didn't finish his sentence, looking away, struggling for a moment to control his anger again. "At least," he continued, "that's what I'm trying to convince myself."

We sat in silence again. I glanced at the clock on the dash-board. It was past six-thirty.

"Oh shit, the girls will be worried," I murmured, "I was supposed to meet them for dinner!"

He loosely let go of my hand and started the engine without another word, turning around smoothly and heading back into town. We were still going too fast but weaving with ease through the cars slowly cruising back to the boardwalk. He paralleled parked into a space I would have thought too small for the Volvo but it was done effortlessly in one try. I looked out the window to see the lights of the restaurant, and my friends coming outside, pacing anxiously away.

"How did you know where…?" I began, but then I just shook my head. I heard the door open and turned to see him getting out.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm taking you to dinner." He smiled, waiting for me on the sidewalk. "But first go catch up to your friends, they must be worried about you."

"Rachel! Lauren! Tina! Britt!" I yelled after them, waving when they turned. They rushed over to me, the pronounced relief on all their faces. I saw Rachel's eyes grow wide when she saw who was standing behind me.

"Where have you been?" she asked protectively, "We've been so worried! We were just going to get the police!"

"I'm sorry, I got lost!" I explained.

"And then he ran into Blaine…" Tina piped up, gesturing towards him.

"Would it be okay if I joined you?" he asked in his silken irresistible voice. He had struck them speechless.

"A-actually," stuttered Lauren, and this surprised me because I had never seen her lose her cool. "We've already eaten. Perhaps you and Kurt should go on in. Are you right to get him home too Cullen?"

I had a feeling she was only doing it to give us alone time as the others were looking at her curiously but they didn't question her motives. Blaine simply nodded.

"Okay," Tina said brightly, catching on to Lauren's idea, "See you tomorrow, Kurt. Thanks for all your help today."

"Yeah," Brittany smiled, "Thanks for reminding me Santana's taking me to the dance. I almost took you. Awk-ward."

Rachel was furiously trying to sign that I call her later but the others were ushering her away quickly and I pretended I had no idea what she was going on about. I waved bye to my friends, waiting for them to drive away before I turned to face him.

"Honestly, I'm not hungry." I insisted.

He walked over to the door of the restaurant and held it open. "You're only saying that because you're still shaken up. You'll feel better with some food inside you, trust me."

The restaurant wasn't crowded; our host was male and flamboyantly _gay_ which I only realized with the way he was undressing Blaine with his eyes. He welcomed him a little more warmly than necessary.

"Private booth for two," Blaine requested and at this the waiter looked a little shut down. He led us to a small partition of booths, all empty.

"Perfect," he said, flashing his brilliant smile momentarily. We sat down at the table silently but there was no awkwardness.

"C-can you do something for me?" I whispered, looking around to catch the same male waiter starting at Blaine.

"Yes?"

I sighed, "It might seem silly but—c-can you hold, my hand, so _I_ can calm down?"

The comment earned me another brilliant smile, "It's not silly," he said and took my hand into his. The coolness electrified my skin and I flushed red; peering just in time to catch the waiter rolling his eyes before coming back to our table.

"What can I get you both to drink?" I didn't miss that he was only speaking to Blaine, who surprised me when he got my diet coke order correct.

The waiter walked off and I noticed Blaine had been staring at me the whole time, in wonder, so I finally caved. "What?" I asked playfully.

He shook his head, "Are you sure you're okay? I'm surprised you're not going into shock." He looked genuinely concerned.

"That won't be a problem," I told him, "I've gotten used to blocking out unpleasant memories."

Right on cue, the waiter returned with a basket of breadsticks. Seeing it suddenly made me homesick for Lima.

"Are you ready to order?" he asked Blaine.

"Kurt?" he asked. The waiter turned unwillingly towards me. I held onto Blaine's hand even tighter as I flicked through the menu. "I'll just have the salmon penne, thanks."

"And you?" he turned back to Blaine with a smile.

"I'm fine with just the coke," he said. Of course he was.

"Let me know if you change your mind," the waiter insisted coyly as he walked off. Blaine was still looking at me, "Drink," he insisted.

I took a few sips obediently but I hadn't realized how thirsty I was and downed the entire thing. Blaine pushed his drink towards me.

"Thanks," I muttered. Iciness swept through me and I shivered.

"Don't you have a jacket?" he asked.

"Yes," I answered before realizing I had left it in Rachel's car. "Oh—my friends have it."

Blaine was already out of his jacket before I could blink. It was the first time that I had taken real note of what he was wearing—a beige turtleneck that accentuated the lines of his muscles. He handed me the jacket snapping me out of my reverie.

"Thanks," I said shyly, wrapping my arms into the jacket and desperately reaching for his hand again. The jacket felt cool around me, the way it does when you first put it on for the first time during winter. It also smelt amazing. It wasn't cologne I recognized. In fact, I wasn't even sure it was cologne.

"You look really nice in blue," he commented, thumb circling my hand again, "It brings out your eyes."

I looked down, flushed with embarrassment of course. He pushed the basket of breadsticks towards me.

"Really, Blaine, I'm not going into shock."

"Maybe, but you still look shaken."

"This is nothing! Honestly I just—I feel really safe around you." I had been mesmerized into confessing the truth again.

He looked disappointed at this but didn't voice it. "So have you come up with any more theories? Or are you still stealing from comic books?" He leaned in closer to me.

The waiter interrupted my answer with a fresh plate of penne. He didn't stay long, obviously realizing that he had no chance. I still wasn't even sure I had any.

"You were saying?" pressed Blaine.

"Why are you in Port Angeles?"

He smirked, "You didn't answer my question."

"And now you know what that feels like. I might tell you later in the car if… if you pay for dinner."

"Done."

I sighed, leaving a moment's pause between us. "Thank you, Blaine. And I'm not talking about the bill." I stared into his honey eyes. "I mean, well, that's _twice_ now that you've saved my life."

"Let's not try and aim for three. Agreed?"

I smiled and simply nodded. I didn't realize my other hand had been resting idly on the table until he took it with his own free one. Both our hands were joined now resting in the middle of the table and Blaine leaned in as close to me as he could.

"I followed you to Port Angeles," he admitted, speaking in a rush. "I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before but it's probably because… well, it's you."

He paused. I wondered if I should be bothered that he was following me—at least that was the sane logical reaction—except I felt a surge of pleasure instead.

"And here I sit… because of you." I paused. "Because somehow you knew how to find me today…?"

He stared at me, then at my untouched plate, and slowly let go of my hands.

"I'll tell you what," he said, "If you eat, I'll talk."

Well, that seemed a fair enough bargain. I quickly began on my pasta.

"I was keeping tabs on Rachel, and at first I didn't notice when you took off on your own. Then, when I realized you weren't with her anymore, I went looking for you at the men's clothing store. There was only one. But you weren't there either and I grew anxious. I had no reason to be worried but… I was."

He was lost in thought, seeing things I couldn't imagine.

"I started to drive in circles, still… listening. The sun had set so I got out following you on foot. And then—"

He stopped, clenching his teeth together.

"Then what?" I whispered. He continued to stare over me.

"I heard what they were thinking," he growled, "I saw your face in their minds." His hand suddenly flew forward covering his eyes. "It was very…hard—you can't imagine how hard—for me to simply leave them alive and take you away to safety." His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have left you with your friends but I was afraid—afraid I would have come back for them."

Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.

"Are you ready to go home?" he asked.

"I'm ready to leave," I answered, grateful that we had the hour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him.

He left the waiter a generous tip and then we walked to his car where he opened the passenger door for me. I watched him walk around the front of the car, amazed, yet again, by how graceful he was. I probably should have been used to that by now—but then I had the feeling that Blaine was the type of person who just constantly amazed you.

It was still cold but I was warm in the car as I was still in his jacket, breathing in the scent of it when I thought he wasn't looking.

A/N: This has been my favorite chapter so far! But—It is almost five in the morning and I have to be up for work tomorrow =_= so I'm kinda dead right now. I got back from Europe yesterday afternoon and have spent all night writing this chapter so reviews are greatly appreciated!

I will try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible! So until then! xoxo


	9. Chapter 9: Theory

Chapter Nine - **Theory**

"So," Blaine smirked, lips widening into a cheeky smile as he accelerated much too fast, driving effortlessly without keeping any attention to the road.

"So?" I asked, pulling my own cheeky smile too.

He sighed, "Have Marvel tried to sue you yet?"

"Why would a comic book company try to sue… oh."

He chuckled, "Well?"

I sighed, "Ever the patient gentleman, aren't you Blaine?"

"You have no idea."

Grinning, I put some of my sass to good use and comfortably reached out for his hand, while he used his other to continue driving. He didn't object.

"I know you can hear what other people are thinking," I whispered, "But not me. Correct?"

He raised an eyebrow, peering over at me quickly as he spoke, "Isn't it my turn to ask the questions?"

"I'm getting there, I promise. I just need you to… confirm a few things."

I waited with excruciating patience as he turned his head towards mine and nodded slightly. In that moment, it suddenly dawned on me: this was it. This was the first sincere confirmation I'd been given that he was something slightly more than human. But what I couldn't grasp my head around was the fact that why was I the only one he couldn't hear? My face fell. Blaine noticed the change in my expression immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked, circling patterns around my hand with his thumb. His cool fingers had a gentle numbing effect on me.

I confessed, "I feel like there's something wrong with me. I can't understand why I'm the only one you can't hear. Is there something wrong with my mind?"

At this he laughed, "I tell you I can read minds and you're worried there's something wrong with you?"

I gripped his hand gently, "Point taken." I looked away from his face for the first time, trying to find the right words. It was then that I noticed.

"Blaine! Slow down! Are you trying to get us killed?"

"What's wrong?"

"You're going a hundred miles an hour!" I was still shouting. I shot a panicky glance out the window, but it was too dark to see much. The road was only visible in the long patch of bluish brightness from the headlights. The forest along both sides of the road was like a black wall— and I didn't want to think what would happen if we crashed into it at the speed we were going.

Blaine seemed to read my concerns, "Relax, Kurt. We're not going to crash."

"Do you always drive like this?"

"Always. I hate driving slow."

I folded my arms trying to calm my own insecurities. "Fine. Forget crashing. Burt would kill us both anyway if he knew how fast we were going right now."

I watched with relief as the needle finally started drifting towards eighty."Happy?" he sighed.

"We're still going too fast. I'm pretty sure that when Burt last ordered parts, a Volvo pretzel was not amongst them."

Blaine grabbed my hand again laughing, "Enough commentary on my driving! I'm still waiting to hear your latest theory."

I bit my lip. He looked down at me, his honey eyes unexpectedly gentle."I won't laugh," he promised.

"It's not that. I'm more afraid that you'll… be angry with me."

"Is it _that_ bad?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

He waited. I was looking down at our intertwined hands, so I wouldn't have to see his expression.

"Go ahead." His voice was calm.

"I don't know how to start," I admitted.

"Well, did you come up with this theory on your own?"

I shook my head.

"What got you started — a book? A movie?"

"No. It was Saturday, at the beach." I risked a glance up at his face. "I ran into an old family friend —David Black. His dad and Burt have been friends since I was a baby." He looked confused. "David's father is Artie Black, one of the Quileute elders."

I watched him carefully. His confused expression froze in place. "I went for a walk with David—and he was telling me some old legends. He told me one…" I hesitated.

"Go on," he said.

"About vampires." I realized I was whispering. I couldn't look at his face now. But I felt his hand tighten immediately against mine.

"And you immediately thought of me?" Still calm.

"No. He… mentioned your family." He was silent, staring at the road. I was worried suddenly, worried about protecting Dave."He just thought it was a silly superstition," I said quickly. "He didn't expect me to think anything of it."

"What happened then?" he asked after a minute.

"Finn and I found some books in the attic."

"And did those convince you?" His voice sounded barely interested. But his other hand was clamped hard onto the steering wheel.

"No. Nothing fit. Most of it was kind of silly. And then…" I stopped.

"What?"

"I decided it didn't matter," I whispered. His face was expressionless but pained somehow. "Really? Really, Kurt? Does it _really_ not matter?" His tone made me look up — I had finally broken through his carefully composed mask.

"No," I said softly. "It doesn't matter to me what you are." A hard, mocking edge entered his voice. "You don't care if I'm a monster? If I'm not human?"

I didn't have to think my answer twice. I made sure our eyes met when I said it. "No."

He was silent, staring straight ahead again. His face was bleak and cold.

I sighed. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"Look," he said, but his tone was as hard as his face. "I'd rather know what you're thinking — even if what you're thinking is insane."

"So I'm wrong again?" I challenged.

"That's not what I was referring to. I just—can't believe you think it doesn't matter."

"I'm right?" I gasped.

"Does it matter?"

I took a deep breath."No." I paused. "But I am… curious." My voice, at least, was composed.

He was suddenly resigned. "What are you curious about?"

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," he answered promptly.

"And how long have you been seventeen?"

His lips twitched as he stared at the road. "A while," he admitted at last.

"Okay." I smiled, pleased that he was still being honest with me. He stared down at me with watchful eyes, much as he had before, when he was worried I would go into shock. I smiled wider in encouragement, and he frowned.

"Don't laugh — but how can you come out during the daytime?"

He laughed anyway. "Myth."

"Burned by the sun?"

"Myth."

"Sleeping in coffins?"

"Myth."

He hesitated for a moment, and a peculiar tone entered his voice. "I can't sleep."

It took me a minute to absorb that. "At all?"

"Never," he said his voice nearly inaudible. "I suppose I've trained myself out of it. The others usually can." He turned to look at me with a wistful expression. The golden eyes held mine, and I lost my train of thought. I stared at him until he looked away.

"You haven't asked me the most important question yet." His voice was hard now, and when he looked at me again his eyes were cold.

I blinked, still dazed. "Which one is that?"

"You aren't concerned about my diet?" he asked sarcastically.

"Oh," I murmured, "that."

"Yes, that." His voice was bleak. "Don't you want to know if I drink blood?"

I flinched. "Well, Dave said something about that."

"What did Dave say?" he asked flatly.

"He said you didn't… hunt people. He said your family wasn't supposed to be dangerous because you only hunted animals."

"He said we weren't dangerous?" His voice was deeply skeptical.

"Not exactly. He said you weren't _supposed_ to be dangerous. But the Quileutes still didn't want you on their land, just in case."

He looked forward, but I couldn't tell if he was watching the road or not.

"So was he right? About not hunting people?" I tried to keep my voice as even as possible.

"The Quileutes have a long memory," he whispered. I took it as a confirmation. "Don't let that make you complacent, though," he warned me. "They're right to keep their distance from us. We are still dangerous."

"I don't understand."

"We try," he explained slowly. "We're usually very good at what we do. Sometimes we make mistakes. Me, for example, allowing myself to be alone with you."

"This is a—mistake?" I heard the sadness in my voice, but I didn't know if he could as well.

"A very dangerous one," he murmured.

We were both silent then and I was hideously afraid that I would never have another chance to be with him like this again—openly, the walls between us gone for once. His words hinted at an end, and I recoiled from the idea. I couldn't waste one minute I had with him.

"Tell me more," I asked desperately.

He looked at me quickly, startled by the change in my tone. "What more do you want to know?"

"Tell me why you hunt animals instead of people," I suggested, my voice still tinged with desperation. I realized my eyes were wet, and I fought against the grief that was trying to overpower me.

"I don't _want_ to be a monster." His voice was very low.

"But animals aren't enough?"

He paused. "I can't be sure, of course, but I'd compare it to living on tofu and soy milk; we call ourselves vegetarians, our little inside joke. It doesn't completely satiate the hunger—or rather thirst. But it keeps us strong enough to resist. Most of the time."

His tone turned ominous. "Sometimes it's more difficult than others."

"Is it very difficult for you now?" I asked.

He sighed. "Yes."

"But you're not hungry now," I said confidently — stating, not asking.

"Why do you think that?"

"Your eyes. I told you I had a theory. I've noticed that men are crabbier when they're hungry."

He chuckled. "You are observant, aren't you?"

"Can't help myself," I joked, "Were you hunting this weekend, with Puck?"

"Yes." He paused for a second, as if deciding whether or not to say something. "I didn't want to leave, but it was necessary. It's a bit easier to be around you when I'm not thirsty."

"Why didn't you want to leave?"

"It makes me… anxious… to be away from you." His eyes were gentle but intense, and they made me feel tingly all over. "I was distracted all weekend, worrying about you. And after what happened tonight, I'm surprised that you made it through a whole weekend." He shook his head, and then seemed to remember something. "It was a very long three days. I really got on Puck's nerves." He smiled ruefully at me.

"Three days? Didn't you just get back today?"

"No, we got back Sunday."

"Then why weren't any of you in school?" I was frustrated, almost angry as I thought of how much disappointment I had suffered.

"Well, you asked if the sun hurt me, and it doesn't. But I can't go out in the sunlight — at least, not where anyone can see."

"Why?"

"I'll show you sometime," he promised. I thought about it for a moment."You could have called me," I decided.

He was puzzled. "But I knew you were safe."

"But _I_ didn't know where you were. I —" I hesitated, dropping my eyes.

"What?" His voice was compelling.

"I didn't like it." I had started whispering again, "Not being able to see you. It makes me… anxious… too." I blushed to be saying this out loud even in a small voice.

He was quiet. I glanced up, apprehensive, and saw that his expression was pained. "I'm so sorry, Kurt," he groaned quietly. "This is wrong."

I couldn't understand his response. "What did I say?"

"Don't you see? It's one thing for me to make myself miserable, but a whole other thing for you to be so involved." He turned his anguished eyes to the road, his words flowing almost too fast for me to understand. "It's not because you're saying anything wrong, I just, I can't allow myself to _want_ to hear that you feel that way." His voice was low but urgent and truthfully—his words had cut me. "It's not safe. I'm dangerous, Kurt — please, grasp that."

"No." I tried very hard not to look like a sulky drama queen.

"I'm serious," he growled.

"So am I. I told you, it doesn't matter to me what you are. It's too late."

He paused, his voice low and slightly harsh. "Never say that. You always have a choice to turn away. Always." I bit my lip not for the first time that night and was glad he couldn't know how much that hurt. I stared out at the road. We must have been nearing Forks now. He was still driving much too fast.

"What are you thinking?" he asked his voice still raw. I just shook my head, not sure if I could speak. I could feel his gaze on my face, but I kept my eyes forward. I had stopped holding his hand a while ago.

"Are you crying?" He sounded upset. I hadn't realized the moisture in my eyes had brimmed over. I quickly rubbed my hand across my cheek, and sure enough, traitor tears were there, betraying me.

"It doesn't matter," I said, but my voice cracked. "You can't understand how this feels."

I saw him reach toward me hesitantly with his right hand, and then he brushed my tears away gently never once veering off the road.

"I'm sorry." His voice burned with regret. I knew he wasn't just apologizing for the words that had upset me.

The darkness slipped by us in silence.

"Tell me something," he asked after another minute, and I could hear him struggle to use a lighter tone.

"Yes?"

"What were you thinking tonight, just before I came around the corner? I couldn't understand your expression — you didn't look that scared, you looked like you were concentrating very hard on something."

"I was trying to remember how to incapacitate an attacker — you know, self-defense. I was going to smash his nose into his brain." I thought of the dark-haired man with a surge of hate.

"You were going to fight them?" This upset him. "Didn't you think about running?"

"Did you honestly think I stood a chance at outrunning them?"

"What about screaming for help?"

"I was getting to that part."

He shook his head. "You were right — I'm definitely fighting fate trying to keep you alive." I sighed. We were slowing, passing into the boundaries of Forks. It had taken less than twenty minutes.

"I want to see you again tomorrow." I said confidently, "At school."

"Well — I have a paper due, too." He smiled. "I'll save you a seat at lunch." It was silly, after everything we'd been through tonight, how that little promise sent flutters through my stomach, and made me unable to speak.

We were in front of Burt's house. The lights were on, my truck in its place, everything utterly normal. It was like waking from a dream. He stopped the car, but I didn't move.

"Do you promise to be there?" I asked him.

"I promise." I considered that for a moment then nodded. I pulled his jacket off, subtlety breathing in his scent one last time.

"You can keep it — you don't have a jacket for tomorrow," he reminded me.

"Thank you. I mean I know you won't need it but thank you all the same." I hesitated, my hand on the door handle, trying to prolong the moment.

"Kurt?" he asked in a different tone — serious, but hesitant.

"Yes?" I turned back to him too eagerly.

"Will you promise me something?"

"Yes," I said, "unless you ask me to stay away from you, I can't keep that promise."

"No—not that. Just… if you do make that choice—to turn away—please don't hesitate letting go."

I shook my head, "Like I said, it's too late. I'm never saying goodbye to you."

He frowned, and his eyes were tight as he stared past me out the window. "I'll see you tomorrow," he sighed, and I knew he wanted me to leave now.

"Tomorrow, then." I opened the door unwillingly.

"Kurt?" I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face just inches from mine. My heart stopped beating.

In those few seconds I took his face to memory. I didn't know if I'd ever get a chance to be this close to him again.

"I need you to refresh my memory," he said. His breath blew in my face, stunning me. It was the same exquisite scent that clung to his jacket, but in a more concentrated form. I blinked, thoroughly dazed. He leaned closer.

"What do you need help with remembering?" I asked, my voice a cracked whisper.

Blaine swallowed. "Well, we just went out for dinner, right?" He gently brushed his fingers under my chin. "We held hands—" –his finger traced over my lips—"I even paid for the meal. I may not have been on one in a while but is it wrong for me to assume that was a date?"

I let out a noise that was somewhere between a sigh and a soft moan, "Of course not." I said breathlessly, "We met all the traditional requirements of a date." My voice was still a whisper, but barely.

"Huh," Blaine answered, "I'm pretty sure there's one more date tradition we haven't met yet."

I stared at him, unable to move until my brain had somewhat unscrambled itself. He looked at me, a faint smile on his lips and though there was barely any space between us anyway, leaned impossibly closer to me, head tilted. I closed my eyes.

The second his lips brushed against mine, I knew it was right. Everything about the moment was right. It was slow and it was sweet and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the butterflies in my stomach threatening to explode right out of me. He cupped his hands around my face and my hands reached to place a tentative placement on his thigh hearing him emit a small moan. It wasn't over the top it was just… right.

We broke apart mutually, foreheads pressed against each other. The silence between us wasn't awkward. We could feel both our smiles as we stared into each other's eyes.

"That was the first time I'd ever kissed someone," I admitted my hands reaching up to hold Blaine's face.

"How was it?"

"Refresh my memory?"

He laughed quietly and gently kissed me again, sending my head into a spin. I stepped out of the car awkwardly, having to use the frame for support.

I thought I heard him chuckle, but the sound was too quiet for me to be certain. That's when I looked up.

Burt was standing in front of the Volvo, his eyes wide and face full of shock, staring at me like I was the one who had just caught him doing something.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I wanted to sink into a ball on the floor of Blaine's car but I had become a statue. This was not how I wanted him to find out.

Burt cleared his throat.

"Well—you're home early."

From the corner of my eye, I could see Blaine staring intently at me. It gave me the courage to simply nod.

Burt had to clear his throat again, "Er, why don't you um… invite your—friend—inside."

He didn't wait for me to agree or to even ask Blaine if he was allowed to step in for a bit. But Blaine had already exited his side of the car and was by my side. He took my hand immediately, whispering into my ear. "I'm so sorry, I should have heard him coming, it's just I was so… lost in the moment."

"I don't regret it." I told him fast. "We'll be okay—my dad's not going to kill us. I think."


	10. Chapter 10: Interrogations

**A/N:**Thank you to everyone who has helped _Klainelight_ reach over 50 reviews! I can't comprehend how much love I have you for all!

Also, thanks heaps to **Rachel**, you have no idea how inspired I was by your review. [I even printed it out!] I hope you continue reading the rest of this! And of course to **clovrboy**_**,**_ who is__only like my most favorite person in the fandom world.

Enjoy!

P.S PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ THE **A/N** AT THE BOTTOM AFTER READING THIS CHAPTER, IT'S RATHER IMPORTANT!

Chapter Ten - **Interrogations**

Burt was already inside by the time Blaine and I passed the front door to join him. The silence in the house was deafening. He called out to us from the living room. "Kurt?"

Still holding Blaine's hand like a child would a safety blanket, I walked in to see him. His eyes fell to where we had clasped our fingers together and, on instinct and in an act of insecurity, I immediately let go. There was a baseball game on TV but the volume had been muted. Burt pressed record on the remote and turned it off.

"Carole's not here tonight?" I asked with a tone I hoped sounded casual and friendly but probably sounded like I really felt—scared and worried.

"She had to stay back at the shop for stocktaking. Finn was there to help as Rachel was out with you so I came home." There was a small pause. "Take a seat."

My legs were shaking and I felt myself sink into the couch. I was feeling rather dizzy now. Funny, almost being attacked by four Neanderthals hadn't put me into shock but this would probably do the trick. Blaine sat down next to me, leaving an appropriate distance between us. Burt remained standing.

"What's your name, son?"

His answer was immediate, "Blaine, sir. Blaine Cullen."

I saw the regard in Burt's eyes as he immediately recognized the name, "Cullen? Are you one of those doctor's kids?"

"Yes, sir. Dr. William Cullen is my father."

"And you're—" Burt couldn't finish the sentence. Instead he made some weird gestures with his hands that I understood to mean _gay_. Blaine seemed to understand what it meant as well.

"Hmm. Well, I am very interested in Kurt, yes, and I just want you to know that I would never force him to pursue something that he was unwilling to, especially if it made him uncomfortable. In fact, I believe this interest to be mutual and with your permission, I would like to date your son."

As worried as I was of my father, I felt myself glow with happiness when Blaine said that and I couldn't help but look at him. He eyes were still locked on Burt's with respect, but for a few fleeting moments, I suddenly didn't care what happened after this. Blaine wanted to be with me and that was all I could think about. The sound of Burt clearing his throat distracted me and I looked up as he turned his face in my direction, "I thought _Brittany_ made you happy, Kurt."

My eyes grew wide and I felt my face flush as I remembered the conversation we had shared about it. I couldn't say anything. My brain just didn't want to work. Blaine had given me strength but this was my _dad_. I heard Burt sigh.

"There was no Brittany, was there?" he said in a whisper, "It was always this Blaine kid, wasn't it?"

I turned away. I couldn't look at him anymore. I just couldn't. Burt was a great guy but this was the hardest conversation we had ever had. I had thought so many times over about how I wanted to tell him and this scenario had _not_ made the cut.

"Kurt, I can't lie, you know. I gotta admit I'm a little disappointed that you couldn't tell me the truth. If Blaine is who makes you happy, then, I'm all for it. I _just_want you to be happy. So yes, Blaine," Burt kept his eyes on me, "I'll allow you to see my son."

We both nodded, but I was still in shock. And today had been such a long day. A full emotional rollercoaster. I could see the ups and downs of the ride I had just had, and my stomach was still swimming from the journey: Actually shopping—that was an up. Unjustly ridiculed—definite down. Blinding acceptance from my friends, up. Physically bullied, down, down, down. Heroically rescued, up, up, up. Dinner date, very high. First Kiss, REALLY HIGH. Coming out—well, that had gone straight down but the rollercoaster seemed to be riding steady now.

Burt's composure appeared a bit more relaxed. "It's not even eight yet," he told me. "Did you have fun?"

I looked up, confused. I mustn't have heard him correctly and yet I was so sure that I had. "Wait—that's it?"

"What is?"

"That's all you're gonna say?"

Burt looked as confused as I felt. He spoke very slowly, "What more did you want me to say?"

I opened and closed my mouth several times before it all just tumbled out like word vomit, "Dad, you just found out that I like _boys,_ that I like _Blaine_, and you're honestly okay with that?"

"Well—I'm not going to pretend that it's not going to take some getting used to—but I'm willing to try. And I guess—I guess… it's just been something that I've always known."

"Wait… what?"

"Since you were three," Burt admitted. "I may be dumb, Kurt. But I'm not stupid. Am I upset that you probably won't want to take over Hummel's Tire and Lube? Sure. But am I going to be the proudest father in the world when you're on that same stage in New York you've always dreamed about? You can bet on the Red's next homerun, I will be."

My emotions got the better of me and I stood up and in two strides was in my dad's arms. He broke apart first, rubbing my head and ruining my hair, "You're okay to show Blaine out, right kiddo?"

Blaine stood up immediately, "Thank you for everything, sir. I'm sorry we had to first meet like this."

Burt nodded and shook Blaine's hand as he had offered it out to him. I desperately clung to his other one and led him to the front door.

From inside the living room, I could hear the TV was back on and that Burt had resumed watching his game. I turned to Blaine. "That was so, so, so close."

Blaine smiled, a cheeky grin, "You never had anything to worry about," he winked. "Goodnight, Kurt." He had to go down to the next step to kiss me properly but kiss me he did. When our lips parted I was rewarded with his glorious smile. I watched him head back to the Volvo but the moment the car started I blinked and he was gone.

I returned to the living room and collapsed on the sofa beside Burt. He didn't pause from his game but we started talking.

"So—how wasshopping with Rachel?"

I raised an eyebrow. Were we seriously talking about this? I decided I was too out of it to care. "It was actually lots of fun." My head was spinning as thinking of it seemed so long ago after everything else that had happened. "They all found dresses. With my help, of course."

He paused, noticing my face, but turning back to his game almost immediately, "You all right? You look a bit—unusual."

My face had just been introduced to the amazing lips of Blaine's, no wonder I looked different. How embarrassing. "I'm just t-tired. I did a lot of walking."

"Well, maybe you should go lie down." He sounded concerned. I was too busy worrying about what my face looked like.

"I'm just going to call Rachel first."

"Weren't you just with her?" he asked, surprised. "Or did you and Blaine run off together?"

"Very funny, Dad. I need to call Rachel because I left my jacket in her car. I want to make sure she brings it tomorrow."

I went to the kitchen and still exhausted, fell into a chair. I was really feeling dizzy now. I wondered if I was going to go into shock after all.

I might have had a good time with my friends but I had also been teased, bullied and almost bashed today. But then I had also rocked the hell out of an awesome pair of heels. And I _had_ had my first kiss tonight. With someone I really liked. I did mention the emotional rollercoaster, right?

From within my jean pockets, I could feel my cell ringing loudly. I didn't bother to check who it was as I answered the call.

"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.

"Kurt?"

"Hey, Rachel, I was just going to call you."

"You made it home okay!" Her voice was relieved.

"Yes. I left my jacket in your car — could you bring it tomorrow?"

"Sure! But first, let's get to the important stuff—tell me what happened!" she demanded.

"Um, tomorrow — in Trig, okay? I'm just about to head off to bed."

She didn't understand that I just had some thinking to do. "Oh, is your dad there?"

He was still in the living room but that excuse would do. "Um… yeah."

I knew I hadn't sounded convincing but she must have not been paying attention. "Okay, I'll talk to you tomorrow, then. Bye!" I could hear the excitement in her voice.

"Bye, Rachel."

I let Burt know I was turning in and then made my way to my room. My mind still swirled dizzily, full of images I couldn't understand, and some I fought to repress. Nothing seemed clear at first but gradually a few certainties became evident.

About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Blaine was a vampire. Second, there was part of him that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

~.~

It was very hard, in the morning, to argue with the part of me that was sure last night was a dream. Logic wasn't on my side, or common sense. I clung to the parts I couldn't have imagined — like our first kiss, my first kiss. I was sure could never have dreamed that up that perfection on my own.

It was foggy and dark outside my window, absolutely perfect. He had no reason not to be in school today. I dressed in my heavy clothes, even styling my hair and then remembered I had his jacket. Further proof that my memory was real.

When I got downstairs, Burt was gone again — I was running later than I'd realized. As I realized too, that there was no time for breakfast, I started wishing there was a good coffee shop somewhere in Forks. I was also hoping the rain would hold off until I could find Rachel. Now that I was ready to brag about the awesome that was last night, I was actually rather excited to see her.

My phone started ringing in my satchel and seeing Blaine's name across it I answered quickly, "Hey you." I greeted, not bothering to hide the happiness in my voice.

"Hey. I have it on good authority that if you don't ride in with me to school today, you will be late."

I didn't see where he came from, but suddenly he was there, pulling into my driveway.

"How did you know I was running late? I thought you couldn't read my mind?"

He smiled getting out of the driver's seat just to open the door to the passenger side of the car. "I can't. Let's just say I'm not the only one in my family who has… unusual talents."

Before I could question him, he had abruptly distracted me, "So… did you want to ride with me today?" he asked, amused by my expression as he caught me by surprise yet again. There was uncertainty in his voice.

I diminished his insecurity in a flash, "Is that even a question?" As I stepped into the warm car, he noticed I was wearing his tan jacket.

"That looks good on you," he complimented, "You should keep it."

The door closed behind me, and, sooner than should be possible, he was sitting next to me, starting the car.

"It is a lovely jacket," I acknowledged, "Where did you get it?"

He didn't miss a beat, "Italy."

"I-Italy?" I stuttered, "I couldn't _possibly_ keep this!"

But Blaine shook his head. "It's yours. I have several more just like it at home." I noticed that he wore no jacket himself, just a light gray knit V-neck shirt with long sleeves. Again, the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. It was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body. "Don't worry about me, like you know, I don't quite need it."

"I still don't think I deserve this," I admitted but I hugged the fabric closer to me, curious to see if the scent could possibly be as good as I remembered. It was better.

"Of course you do," he contradicted in a voice so low I wasn't sure if he meant for me to hear.

We drove through the fog-shrouded streets, still much too fast. I rode beside him lost in thought. Last night… he had admitted that we had been on a date, we had kissed in his car, he had asked my father permission to start seeing me and yet—I didn't know where we stood. It left me tongue-tied. I waited for him to speak.

He turned to smirk at me. "What, no twenty questions today?"

"I do have one," I said, relieved to be able to say it. "Where do we go from here?"

"We turn right at the next traffic lights to get onto the main road."

I raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, "That's not what I meant and you know it."

"What do you mean?" He looked like he knew very well what I meant, but I couldn't be sure.

I frowned. "Well after last night, I guess I'm just seeking some… _clarity_, about where we stand now."

"You desire a label?"

"In short, yes. Maybe. I don't know."

"That makes me wonder what you're really thinking."

"I always tell you what I'm really thinking."

"You edit," he accused.

"Not very much."

"Enough to drive me insane."

"You're going to think I'm crazy if you hear it," I mumbled, an almost whisper. As soon as the words were out, I regretted them. The pain in my voice was very faint; I could only hope he hadn't noticed it.

He reached for my hand, looking at me straight in the eyes but I couldn't quite meet his. "I want to be your boyfriend, Kurt," he said in one breath, soft and musical. "But I can't understand why you'd want to be mine."

I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off, "Let's not get into this now."

I was annoyed but I wondered if I had ruined the mood. His face was unreadable as we drove into the school parking lot. Something occurred to me belatedly.

"Where's the rest of your family?" I asked — still more than glad to be alone with him, but remembering that his car was usually full.

"They took Quinn's car." He shrugged as he parked next to a glossy red convertible with the top up. "Ostentatious, isn't it?"

"Um, wow," I breathed. "If she has that, why does she ride with you?"

"Like I said, it's ostentatious. We try to blend in."

"You don't succeed." I laughed and shook my head as we got out of the car. I wasn't late anymore; his lunatic driving had gotten me to school in plenty of time. "So why did Quinn drive today if it's more conspicuous?"

"Because being this close with you, well, I'm breaking all the rules now." He met me at the front of the car, staying very close to my side as we walked onto campus.

"Why do you have cars like that at all?" I wondered aloud. "If you're looking for privacy?"

"An indulgence," he admitted with an impish smile. "We all like to drive fast."

"Figures," I muttered under my breath. I wanted to close that little distance, to reach out and touch him, but I was afraid he wouldn't like me to. And then, he surprised me. He may not have been able to read my mind but he understood me well. "Come here," he muttered casually and held me impossibly closer to him.

Under the shelter of the cafeteria roof's overhang, Rachel was waiting, her eyes about to bug out of their sockets. Over her arm, she had my jacket.

"Hey, Rachel," I said when we were a few feet away. "Thanks for remembering." She handed me my jacket without speaking.

"Good morning, Rachel," Blaine said politely. It wasn't really his fault that his voice was so irresistible. Or what his eyes were capable of.

"Er… hi." She shifted her wide eyes to me, trying to gather her jumbled thoughts. "I guess I'll see you in Trig." She gave me a meaningful look and I smiled at her mischievously, suppressing myself from running after her and bragging to her right then and there. She walked away, pausing twice to peek back over her shoulder at us.

"What are you going to tell her?" Blaine murmured.

"The truth," I admitted, "I know you didn't want to get into this but—I'm proud to be able to call you my boyfriend."

His face was unreadable. "Just a heads up Kurt — she'll be waiting to ambush you in class." I pulled off his jacket and handed it to him, replacing it with my own.

"I'm keeping it," I promised as he looked at me hurt, "It's just I don't want to forget my jacket again and I'd much rather wear the tan one to something more special than school." He silently agreed with me as he folded it over his arm.

"So—_exactly_ what are you going to tell her?"

"Everything," I said wickedly. "What does she want to know?"

He shook his head, grinning just as wickedly back at me. "Sorry Swan. That's not fair."

"No, what's unfair is you not sharing what you know." He deliberated for a moment as we walked. We stopped outside the door to my first class.

"Fine. She wants to know if we're secretly dating. And she wants to know how you feel about me," he finally said.

"What should I say?" I tried to keep my expression very innocent.

People were passing us on their way to class, probably staring; we appeared much too cozy for two guys, but I was barely aware of them.

"Hmmm." He paused to catch a stray lock of hair that had escaped from my fringe and wound it back into place. My heart spluttered hyperactively. "I suppose you could say yes to the first… if you don't mind — it's easier than any other explanation."

"I don't mind," I said in a faint voice. "Her dads are gay, she'd probably understand why we'd want to keep it a secret. And as for her other question?"

"Well… I'll be listening to hear the answer to that one myself." One side of his mouth pulled up into my favorite uneven smile. I couldn't catch my breath soon enough to respond to that remark. He turned and walked away.

"I'll see you at lunch," he called over his shoulder. Three people walking in stopped to stare at me.

I hurried into class, flushed and irritated. He was such a cheater. Now I was actually worried about what I was going to say to Rachel come Trig. I sat in my usual seat, slamming my bag down in aggravation.

"Hey Kurt!" Finn said from the seat next to me. I looked up to see a friendly face. "How was Port Angeles? Rachel could not stop going on about that dress you helped her find. I owe you forever for getting me out of it. "

"It was…" There was no honest way to sum it up. "Great," I finished lamely. "Rachel got a really nice dress. And you're right to thank me for it!"

He looked carefully around his shoulder to make sure Tina wasn't listening in on us but she seemed to be too involved with Mike. "Um… did she say anything about Monday night?" he asked. I smiled at him.

"Well normally I would be sworn to secrecy but since we're as good as brothers, I can tell you she had a really, really good time."

"She did?" he said eagerly.

"Most definitely."

"I can't believe I wanted to try something with Brittany. Rachel is…"

"Annoying?"

"Well yes, but she's also the most fantastic girl I know."

"That's sweet. Don't let Mom hear you say that though."

Finn suddenly froze and got excited all at the same time. "Dude you just called my mom—_mom_."

With everything that had happened lately, I wasn't surprised that I hadn't realized I'd made the transition. "I suppose I did. It's okay with you, right?"

"Well, yeah as long as… you keep giving me tips on Rachel."

I rolled my eyes at him. Mr. Mason called the class to order then, asking us to turn in our papers.

~.~

English and then Government passed in a blur as I worried about how to explain things to Rachel and agonized over whether Blaine would really be listening to what I said through the medium of Rachel's thoughts. How very inconvenient his little talent could be — when it wasn't saving my life.

The fog had almost dissolved by the end of the second hour, but the day was still dark with low, oppressing clouds. I smiled up at the sky.

Blaine was right, of course. When I walked into Trig Rachel was sitting in the back row, nearly bouncing off her seat in agitation. I almost skipped as I went to sit by her, trying to not look so up myself.

"Tell me everything!" she commanded before I had even sat down.

And so I did. I told her that we had gone for dinner and then (and she had gasped so loud at this Mr. Varner had given her a death stare) I told her about the kiss.

"It was my first kiss," I said gushing, "And it was absolutely fabulous."

"Aww, you remind me of me—when I first kissed Finn."

"Yeah but I bet your dads didn't catch you doing it?"

"WHAT?"

"Miss Stanley!" Mr. Varner corrected—she had reacted that loud. "Disrupt my class again and I will have to separate you and Mr. Swan."

"Sorry, sir."

She waited until he had resumed writing more equations on the board before mumbling to me, "I'm sorry you had to come out to him like that. It must have been really awkward."

"It wasn't actually all that bad," I mumbled back to her before telling her the story word by word of what had happened. She was a good listener when she wasn't busy talking about herself. I was actually really starting to like our friendship.

"So when are you and Blaine going out again?"

"Umm, he offered to drive me to Seattle Saturday because he thinks my truck isn't up to it — does that count?"

She nodded immediately, "Yes! Of course it does!"

"Well, then, yes of course I am!"

"W-o-w." She exaggerated the word into three syllables. "I can't believe he asked your dad's permission. What a gentleman. Kurt—you're going out with _Blaine_ _Cullen_."

"I know," I agreed. "'Wow', doesn't even cover it".

"Wait!" Her hands flew up, palms toward me like she was stopping traffic. "How many times has he kissed you?"

"I'm not sure," I blushed, "I kinda lost count."

"Really?"

"No, of course not. It's been three times. Twice before my dad found out and then once when he was wishing me goodnight."

"Aww. You make me want to adopt a puppy! What else did you guys talk about?"

Rachel and I had started a trend because everyone in the class seemed to be talking now. Mr. Varner had stopped caring two equations ago.

"Well," I whispered back. "He said he wanted to be my boyfriend. But he wasn't sure why I'd want to be his."

"Have you talked about it?"

"No, he said he didn't really want to get into it."

"Well—why _do_ you want to be his boyfriend?"

I really hoped he was listening in on Rachel now. "Because he's amazing. When I'm with him, I forget about the rest of the world. It's like we're the only two people in existence. I feel so safe, so unthreatened by anything when I'm with him. And, if anything, I can't understand why he'd want to be with me."

_Take__that__Blaine_, I thought, wishing for just one moment that he could hear me.

I smiled to myself as I spoke to Rachel, "You should have seen the waiter flirting with him at dinner — it was over the top. But he didn't even pay any attention to him at all." Let him make what he could of that.

"That's a good sign," she nodded. "Was he cute?"

"Very — and probably nineteen or twenty."

"Even better. Blaine really must like you."

"I hope so. I mean he wouldn't have just asked my dad permission solely to escape the awkwardness of having him seen us kiss, would he? And he says he wants to be my boyfriend but… he's always so cryptic," I threw in for his benefit, sighing.

"Well I'm happy for you," she breathed. "And don't be worried. Everything seems to be so perfect."

"I do have some trouble with incoherency when I'm around him," I admitted.

"Oh well. He is unbelievably gorgeous." Rachel shrugged, "If I was a guy, and I didn't have Finn of course, I'd go there."

"Disturbing to know but thank you. I think. I know Blaine seems intimidating but… he's even more unbelievable behind the face." The vampire who wanted to be good — who ran around saving people's lives so he wouldn't be a monster… I stared toward the front of the room.

"_So_…" Rachel said, a large know-it-all expression on her face, "You have no choice now, Kurt. You _have_ to finally admit you like him." She gave me a coy smile. She had only asked me about this a million times. And now she was finally getting the answer she wanted to hear.

"Well it's not like you hadn't caught on," I said curtly.

"That's right, I knew it all along! You really like him. You _like_ like him," she pressed.

"Yes," I said, now blushing. I hoped _that_ detail wouldn't register in her thoughts.

"How much do you like him?"

"Too much," I whispered back. "More than he likes me. But I don't see how I can help that." I sighed, one blush blending into the next.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Varner called on Rachel for an answer.

She didn't get a chance to start on the subject again during class, and as soon as the bell rang, I thought I'd be a good friend and talk about something I knew she'd love to go on about: herself.

"So in English," I began, "Finn asked me if you said anything about Monday night."

"You're kidding! What did you say?" she gasped, completely sidetracked.

"I told him you said you had a lot of fun — he looked pleased."

"Tell me exactly what he said, and your exact answer!" We spent the rest of the walk dissecting sentence structures and most of Spanish on a minute description of Finn's facial expressions.

And then the bell rang for lunch. As I jumped up out of my seat, shoving my books roughly in my bag, my uplifted expression must have tipped Rachel off.

"You're not sitting with us today, are you?" she guessed.

"I don't think so." I couldn't be sure that he wouldn't disappear inconveniently again.

But outside the door to our Spanish class, leaning against the wall —looking more like a poster boy than anyone had a right to — Blaine was waiting for me. Rachel took one look, winked at me, and departed.

"See you later, Kurt," she smiled knowingly.

"Hello." His voice was amused and irritated at the same time. He had been listening, it was obvious.

"Hi." I couldn't think of anything else to say, and he didn't speak — biding his time, I presumed — so it was a quiet walk to the cafeteria. Walking with Blaine through the crowded lunchtime rush was a lot like my first day here; everyone stared.

He led the way into the line, still not speaking, though his eyes returned to my face every few seconds, his expression speculative. It seemed to me that he was more irritated than amused. I fidgeted nervously with the zipper on my jacket.

He stepped up to the counter and filled a tray with food.

"What are you doing?" I objected. "You're not getting all that for me?" He shook his head, stepping forward to buy the food.

"Half is for me, of course." I raised one eyebrow.

He led the way to the same place we'd sat that one time before. From the other end of the long table, a group of seniors gazed at us in amazement as we sat across from each other. Blaine seemed oblivious.

"Take whatever you want," he said, pushing the tray toward me.

"I'm curious," I said as I picked up an apple, turning it around in my hands, "What would you do if someone dared you to eat food?"

"You're always curious." He grimaced, shaking his head. He glared at me, holding my eyes as he lifted the slice of pizza off the tray, and deliberately bit off a mouthful, chewed quickly, and then swallowed. I watched eyes wide.

"If someone dared you to eat dirt, you could, couldn't you?" he asked condescendingly.

I wrinkled my nose. "I did once…" I admitted. "Some kids shoved me to the ground back in middle school and I got a face full of it."

"Those kids were absolute idiots," he growled as something over my shoulder seemed to catch his attention.

"By the way, Rachel is analyzing everything I do — she'll break it down for you later." He pushed the rest of the pizza toward me. The mention of Rachel brought a hint of his former irritation back to his features.

I put down the apple and took a bite of the pizza, looking away, knowing he was about to start.

"So the waiter was cute, was he?" he asked casually.

"You really didn't notice? He was absolutely gorgeous."

"I wasn't paying attention. I had a lot on my mind."

"Poor guy." I could afford to be generous now.

"Something you said to Rachel… well, it bothers me." He refused to be distracted. His voice was husky, and he glanced up from under his lashes with troubled eyes.

"I'm not surprised you heard something you didn't like. You know what they say about eavesdroppers," I reminded him.

"I warned you I would be listening."

"And I warned you that you didn't want to know everything I was thinking."

"You did," he agreed, but his voice was still rough. "You aren't precisely right, though. I do want to know what you're thinking —everything. I just wish… that you wouldn't be thinking some things." I scowled.

"That's quite a distinction."

"But that's not really the point at the moment."

"Then what is?" We were inclined toward each other across the table now. We had already been holding each other's hands without either of us realizing we had. I had to remind myself that we were in a crowded lunchroom, with probably many curious eyes on us. It was too easy to get wrapped up in our own private, tense little bubble.

"Do you really not understand why I'm interested in you?" he murmured, leaning closer to me as he spoke, his dark golden eyes piercing.

I tried to remember how to exhale. There was a lot of silence and then I started rambling talking about nothing in particular before he cut me off.

"Kurt… Will you please answer my question?"

I looked down. "Yes."

"Yes, you are going to answer, or yes, you really don't know?"

"Yes, I really don't know." I kept my eyes down on the table as the silence dragged on. I stubbornly refused to be the first to break it this time, fighting hard against the temptation to peek at his expression. Finally he spoke, voice velvet soft. "Well, it certainly had nothing to do with the fact I was trying to make things less awkward for your dad." I glanced up to see that his eyes were gentle.

I shook my head in doubt, though my heart throbbed at his words. I wanted so badly to believe them.

"Tell me why you don't believe me," Blaine pressed. His liquid topaz eyes were penetrating —trying futilely, I assumed, to lift the truth straight from my mind. I stared back, struggling to think clearly in spite of his face, to find some way to explain. As I searched for the words, I could see him getting impatient; frustrated by my silence, he started to scowl. I lifted my hands from his, and held up one finger.

"Let me think," I insisted. His expression cleared, now that he was satisfied that I was planning to answer. I dropped my hands to the table, moving my left hand so that my palms were pressed together. I stared at my hands, twisting and untwisting my fingers, as I finally spoke.

"Well, aside from the _obvious_, sometimes…" I hesitated. "I can't be sure— _I_ don't know how to read minds — but sometimes it seems like you're trying to convince me to say goodbye, just to see if I would, just to see how far you can push me before I'll let go." That was the best way I could sum up the sensation of anguish that his words triggered in me at times.

"Perceptive," he whispered. And there was the anguish again, surfacing as he confirmed my fear. "I hardly see how that means you don't know how I could feel the way I do," he began to explain, but then his eyes narrowed. "What do you mean when you said, 'the obvious'?"

"Well, look at me," I said, unnecessarily as he was already staring. "I mean I know I'm not the least attractive guy at this school but with all my usual attire packed away I'm absolutely ordinary. And look at you." I waved my hand toward him and all his bewildering perfection.

His brow creased angrily for a moment, then smoothed as his eyes took on a knowing look. "You don't see yourself very clearly, you know. I'll admit your lack of everyday clothes is probably a loss," he chuckled, "but you know, we're not the only two gay guys in this school. You didn't get to hear what some of the males in this school were thinking on your first day."

I blinked, astonished. "I don't believe it…" I mumbled to myself.

"Trust me just this once — you are the opposite of ordinary. You're the single most interesting kid in all of Washington." My embarrassment was much stronger than my pleasure at the look that came into his eyes when he said this. I quickly reminded him of my original argument.

"But I'm not saying goodbye," I pointed out.

"Look Kurt,"— he shook his head, seeming to struggle with the thought —"if leaving is the right thing to do, then I'll hurt myself to keep from hurting you, to keep you safe. That in itself proves how much I care for you because even if I had to leave you to do it, I would."

I didn't want him to talk about goodbyes anymore. If I had to, I supposed I could purposefully put myself in danger to keep him close… I banished that thought before his quick eyes read it on my face. That idea would definitely get me in trouble.

"I have another question for you." He asked; his face was still casual.

"Shoot."

"Do you really need to go to Seattle this Saturday, or was that just an excuse to get out of dancing at a girl's choice dance?"

I made a face. "You know, I haven't forgiven you for the Brittany thing yet," I warned him. "It's your fault that she deluded herself into thinking I was going to prom with her. Thank goodness for Satan."

"Who?"

"Oh! I meant Santana Clearwater."

"Yeah, well Brittany is just an innocent lost little lamb. I just really wish you could have seen your face when she asked you!" he chuckled. I would have been angrier if his laughter wasn't so fascinating.

Then he seemed to get a little more serious. "So…If I had asked you, would you have turned me down?" He was still laughing to himself.

"Probably not," I admitted. "But I would have canceled later — faked a sprained ankle from over wearing heels, a plausible scenario."

He was puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

I shook my head sadly. "It's a _girl__'__s_ choice dance, Blaine. Going with another guy—would just make a scene. I only _just_came out to my friends, to my dad. The last thing I want to do is attract unnescessary attention to myself."

"See now you're doing that editing thing that drives me insane."

"Sorry?"

"You're lying to me. You _do_ want the attention. You want to be noticed. You're the kind of guy who wants to make it really big someday and the only way that can happen is if people start noticing you now. There's a hidden confidence about you that's just dying to come out. You have no problem with who you are." He could see that I was about to protest, and he cut me off. "You range is admirable; you can hit notes most people would dream about and Julliard would kill to have you study there." He was very confident.

"But you're so worried about being ridiculed for being who you are, so worried about how people will react when they find out you're gay, so worried that you'll be disadvantaged from opportunities because you're not blending in hard enough… Kurt—why do you try so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?"

It was a rhetorical question, I knew it, but it still wasn't my turn to speak. I could tell he wasn't finished just yet. "Look at my life, Kurt. I'm bound to remain inconspicuous for all eternity because of what I am. You have a choice. You don't _have_ to be bound like that. If you really want to be my boyfriend, I'm condemning that same life on you, which is why I can't understand why you would want to be my boyfriend at all. And I do, really care about you. I don't want to stuff this up." He looked really annoyed, like he was fighting an inner battle with his thoughts. His hand was holding mine so tightly it worried me with how scared he was.

"As much as I'd love to talk all things New York and Julliard—let's talk about something else," I suggested.

"What do you want to talk about?" he asked. He was still annoyed.

I glanced around us, making sure we were well out of anyone's hearing. As I cast my eyes around the room, I caught the eyes of his sister, Mercedes, staring at me. The others were looking at Blaine. I looked away swiftly, back to him and I asked the first thing that came to mind.

"So if eating pizza is the equivalent of eating dirt, what do you like to eat? Burt said Goat Rocks wasn't a good place to hike, because of bears."

He stared at me as if I was missing something very obvious.

"Bears?" I gasped, and he smirked. "You know, bears are not in season," I added sternly, to hide my shock.

"If you read carefully, the laws only cover hunting with weapons," he informed me.

He watched my face with enjoyment as that slowly sank in.

"Bears?" I repeated with difficulty.

"Grizzly is Puck's favorite." His voice was still offhand, but his eyes were scrutinizing my reaction. I tried to pull myself together.

"Hmmm," I said, taking another bite of pizza as an excuse to look down. I chewed slowly, and then took a long drink of Coke without looking up.

"So," I said after a moment, finally meeting his now-anxious gaze. "What's _your_ favorite?"

He raised an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth turned down in disapproval. "Mountain lion."

"Ah," I said in a politely disinterested tone, looking for my soda again.

"Of course," he said, and his tone mirrored mine, "we have to be careful not to impact the environment with injudicious hunting. We try to focus on areas with an overpopulation of predators — ranging as far away as we need. There's always plenty of deer and elk here, and they'll do, but where's the fun in that?" He smiled teasingly.

"Where indeed," I murmured around another bite of pizza.

"Early spring is Puck's favorite bear season — they're just coming out of hibernation, so they're more irritable." He smiled at some remembered joke.

"Nothing more fun than an irritated grizzly bear," I agreed, nodding.

He snickered, shaking his head. "Tell me what you're really thinking, please."

"I'm trying to picture it — but I can't," I admitted. "How do you hunt a bear without weapons?"

"Oh, we have weapons." He flashed his bright teeth in a brief, threatening smile. I fought back a shiver before it could expose me.

"Just not the kind they consider when writing hunting laws. If you've ever seen a bear attack on television, you should be able to visualize Puck hunting."

I couldn't stop the next shiver that flashed down my spine. I peeked across the cafeteria toward Puck, grateful that he wasn't looking my way. The thick bands of muscle that wrapped his arms and torso were somehow even more menacing now.

Blaine followed my gaze and chuckled. I stared at him, unnerved.

"Are you like a bear, too?" I asked in a low voice.

"More like the lion, or so they tell me," he said lightly. "Perhaps our preferences are indicative."

I tried to smile. "Perhaps," I repeated. But my mind was filled with opposing images that I couldn't merge together. "Is that something I might get to see?"

I could tell this was something he didn't want to talk about because he abruptly changed the topic.

"What—too scary for me?" I asked.

He sighed, "Are you resolved on going to Seattle, or do you mind if we do something different?"

"As long as the "we" part was in, I don't care about anything else," I allowed. "But I do have a favor to ask." He looked wary, as he always did when I asked an open-ended question.

"What?"

"Can I drive?"

He frowned. "Why?"

"Well, mostly because when I told Burt I was going to Seattle, he specifically asked if I was going alone and, at the time, I was. If he asked again, I probably wouldn't lie, but I don't think he will ask again, and leaving my truck at home would just bring up the subject unnecessarily. And also, because your driving qualifies you as a maniac."

He rolled his eyes. "Of all the things about me that could frighten you, you worry about my driving." He shook his head in disgust, but then his eyes were serious again. "Won't you want to tell your father that you're spending the day with me? He had no problems with us going out."

"I probably will tell him." Except I was definite that I would. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"The weather will be nice, so I'll be staying out of the public eye…"

"Are you going to show me what you meant—about the sun?" I asked, excited by the idea of unraveling another of the unknowns.

"Yes." He smiled, and then paused. "But if you don't want to be… alone with me, I'd still rather you didn't go to Seattle by yourself. I shudder to think of the trouble you could find in a city that size."

I was miffed. "Phoenix is three times bigger than Seattle — just in population. Physicality is a whole other story. But, as it happens, I don't mind being alone with you."

"I know," he sighed, brooding. "Make sure you tell Burt though."

"I've already told you that I will."

His eyes were suddenly playful. "It'll give me some small incentive to bring you back."

I gulped. But, after a moment of thought, I was sure. "I think I'll take my chances."

~.~

**A/N:**I was reading the next chapter of _Twilight_ and, as you all know, it is what _Klainelight_ is modeled on and the whole chapter is a filler—except for the giant cliffie at the end, nothing really happens. There are a lot of scenes I'd love to include, like Finn's reaction to Kurt's new boyfriend, and the discussion Blaine and Kurt have when discussing twilight but I guess what I'm asking is **would****it****be****okay****with****my****readers****if****I****just****blended****in****chapter****eleven****and****twelve****together****into****one****chapter****of**_**Klainelight**_**?** If you need some incentive, we'll reach the meadow a whole lot sooner if you agree…! Please leave comments in the review section!

Wow this chapter was long—over seven thousand words! I did have a lot of fun writing it, thanks for reading! Has anyone seen Breaking Dawn yet? Wow, can you imagine if _The__First__Time_ was like some of the scenes in that movie? Yummy.


	11. Chapter 11: Complications

A/N: Only two things guys—One: I just wanted to say I am extremely sorry for how long this took as _A Stranger's Son (_my other Klaine fic) has been taking way much more of my already limited time than I had anticipated and two: this chapter comes with a mild **Adult Content Warning****. Please read at your own risk.**

**~.~**

_For Rachel – no, not Rachel Berry, the even more incredible Rachel who has been following this fic. I'm sure she knows who she is… You're amazing and I love you! xx_

* * *

><p>Chapter Eleven - <strong>Complications<strong>

Everyone watched us as we walked together to our lab table. I noticed that Blaine no longer angled the chair to sit as far from me as the desk would allow. Instead, he sat quite close beside me, our fingers reaching for each other as we held our hands together under the table.

Mr. Banner had a video for us to watch, one of those old black and white ones that should by all intents and purposed be burned a long time ago.

As the video flickered to life my eyes, of their own accord, flickered to him. I smiled as I realized his posture was identical to mine, right down to the golden hazel eyes, peering sideways at me. He grinned back, his eyes seemingly glowing in the dark. I looked away before it became how obviously dizzy I was getting.

The hour seemed very long. I tried to concentrate on the movie but his hand holding mine under the table was sending electric currents throughout my body. Occasionally I would try to relax and permit myself a quick glance in his direction, but it was hard not to notice that he wasn't entirely relaxed either. The overpowering craving to hold him also refused to fade so I settled by tracing circles around his palm with my thumb.

I breathed a sigh of relief when Mr. Banner flicked the lights back on at the end of class, and stretched my arms out in front of me, stumbling a little as I stood. Blaine chuckled beside me.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" he asked. His voice was almost laughing at me in a sarcastic way.

"I'm afraid I wasn't paying much attention," I said with a smirk.

"I'm not sure I was either. Shall we?" he asked, rising fluidly and holding out his hand again for me to hold.

He walked me to my next class in silence and paused at the door; I turned to say goodbye. His face startled me — his expression was torn, almost pained, and so fiercely beautiful that the ache to hold him flared as strong as before. "I'll see you later," I whispered, biting my lip with anticipation.

He raised his hand, hesitant, conflict raging in his eyes, and then swiftly brushed the length of my cheekbone with his fingertips. His skin was as icy as ever, but the trail his fingers left on my skin was alarmingly warm — like I'd been burned, but didn't feel the pain of it yet.

He placed a gentle kiss to my forehead and strode quickly away from me.

I walked into the gym, lightheaded and wobbly. I drifted to the locker-room, changing in a trancelike state, only vaguely aware that there were other people surrounding me. Reality didn't fully set in until I was handed a racket. It wasn't heavy, but I almost dropped it. I could see a few of the other kids in class eyeing me furtively. Coach Clapp ordered us to pair up into teams.

In all protective sibling fashion, a feat to be admired mercifully, Finn came to rescue me, calling out my name.

"Did you want to play on our team?" he asked, showing me his hand to help me stand up from the bench.

"Thanks, Finn. I'm afraid I should warn you though – gym class is outside my natural range of abilities." I grimaced apologetically.

"Don't worry; I'll keep out of your way." He grinned. Sometimes it was so easy to like Finn.

It didn't go smoothly. I somehow managed to hit myself in the head with my racket and whack Finn's shoulder, hard, on the same swing. I spent the rest of the hour in the back corner of the court, the racket held safely behind my back. Despite being handicapped by me, Finn was pretty good; he won three games out of four singlehandedly. He gave me an unearned high five when the coach finally blew the whistle ending class.

"So," he said as we walked off the court.

"So…?" I repeated.

"You and Cullen, huh?" he asked, his tone a little warning, as if he was trying to save me from the big bad. I had to admit though, however unnecessary the question, the fact that he cared enough to say something ignited warm feelings inside me. I had never thought that losing Mom would mean I would gain a brother, and while I would never truly get over losing her, I was so grateful to be able to call Finn family.

"What about me and Blaine, Finn?" It had to be Rachel who had told him. Though I loved my almost brother I knew he wasn't smart enough to work it out on his own.

"I don't like it," he muttered.

"You don't have to," I reminded him.

"He looks at you like… like you're something to eat," he continued, ignoring me.

A small giggle managed to get out despite my efforts. He glowered at me. "Look, I know it's kinda obvious which way our parents our heading so, although I'm not your brother yet, I _am_ going to look out for you whether you like it or not. And despite whatever hold he has on you, I'm worried about you, Kurt."

It was so hard to be annoyed at him when he put it to me like that. "I appreciate it, Finn but I'm okay. However, if Blaine mistakes me for food I'll be sure to ring you via speed dial." I waved resigning to the locker room, Finn letting me go wordlessly.

I dressed quickly, something stronger than butterflies battering recklessly against the walls of my stomach, my conversation with Finn travelling fast to the back of my mind. I was wondering if Blaine would be waiting, or if I should meet him at his car. What if his family was there? Did they know that I knew? Was I supposed to know that they knew that I knew, or not?

By the time I walked out of the gym, I had just about decided to walk straight home without even looking toward the parking lot. But my worries were unnecessary. Blaine was waiting, leaning casually against the side of the gym, his breathtaking face untroubled now. As I walked to his side, I felt a peculiar sense of release.

"Hi," I breathed, smiling hugely.

"Hello." His answering smile was brilliant. "How was Gym?"

My face fell a tiny bit. "I'll be surprised if Finn ever asks me to partner with him again," I told him honestly. "I may or may not have permanently injured his shoulder."

Blaine's eyes shifted their focus slightly, looking over behind me. I turned to glance what he was looking at and saw Finn walking with Rachel; he turned his head to wave at me and then resumed walking with her. I noticed Blaine was tense.

"What?" I demanded.

His eyes slid back to mine, still tight. "I don't think Finn likes me very much."

"What's given you that impression?" I asked confused.

He looked at me guiltily, "How's your head?" he asked innocently.

"Wha- Oh my God, you're unbelievable!" I realized making sense of what had just happened. He had chosen to listen in on my conversation in class. Again. Especially when he knew how I felt about him doing so. I turned to storm away but he kept up with me easily.

"You were the one who mentioned how I'd never seen you in Gym — it made me curious." He didn't sound repentant, so I ignored him.

We walked in silence — a furious, embarrassed silence on my part — to his car. But I had to stop a few steps away — a crowd of people, all boys, were surrounding it.

Then I realized they weren't surrounding the Volvo, they were actually circled around Quinn's red convertible, unmistakable lust in their eyes. None of them even looked up as Blaine slid between them to open his door. I climbed quickly in the passenger side, also unnoticed.

"What kind of car is that?" I asked.

"A BMW M3." He tried to reverse out without running over the car enthusiasts. I made a mental note to brag to Burt about the car.

"Are you still angry?" he asked as he carefully maneuvered his way out.

"Is _Vogue_ still the best fashion magazine available?"

He sighed. "Will you forgive me if I apologize?"

"Maybe… if you mean it. And if you promise not to do it again," I insisted.

His eyes were suddenly shrewd. "How about if I mean it _and_ I agree to let you drive Saturday?" he countered my conditions.

I considered, and decided it was probably the best offer I would get.

"Deal," I agreed.

"Then I'm very sorry I upset you." His eyes burned with sincerity for a protracted moment — playing havoc with the rhythm of my heart — and then turned playful. "And I'll be on your doorstep bright and early Saturday morning."

"Um, I'm probably going to have to tell Dad we're going out, especially if there's an unexplained Volvo in his driveway."

His smile was condescending now. "I wasn't intending to bring a car."

"How —"

He cut me off. "Don't worry about it. I'll be there, no car."

I let it go. He stopped the car. I looked up, surprised — of course we were already at Burt's house, parked behind the truck. It was easier to ride with him if I only looked up when it was over. When I looked back at him, he was staring at me, measuring with his eyes.

"And you still want to know why you can't see me hunt?" He mumbled. He seemed solemn, but I thought I saw a trace of humor deep in his eyes.

"Well," I clarified, "I was mostly wondering about your reaction."

"Did I frighten you?" Yes, there was definitely humor there.

"No," I lied. He didn't buy it.

"I apologize for scaring you," he persisted with a slight smile, but then all evidence of teasing disappeared. "It was just the very thought of you being there… while we hunted." His jaw tightened.

"That would be bad?"

He spoke from between clenched teeth. "Extremely."

"Because… ?"

He took a deep breath and stared through the windshield at the thick, rolling clouds that seemed to press down, almost within reach.

"When we hunt," he spoke slowly, unwillingly, "we give ourselves over to our senses… govern less with our minds. Especially our sense of smell. If you were anywhere near me when I lost control that way…" He shook his head, still gazing morosely at the heavy clouds.

I kept my expression firmly under control, expecting the swift flash of his eyes to judge my reaction that soon followed. My face gave nothing away.

But our eyes held, and the silence deepened — and changed. Flickers of the electricity I'd felt this afternoon began to charge the atmosphere as he gazed unrelentingly into my eyes. It wasn't until my head started to swim that I realized I wasn't breathing. When I drew in a jagged breath, breaking the stillness, he closed his eyes, circling his thumb just under my chin.

"Kurt, I think it's time you headed in now." His low voice was rough, his eyes on the clouds again.

I opened the door, and the arctic draft that burst into the car helped clear my head. I stepped carefully out of the car and shut the door behind me without looking back. The whir of the automatic window unrolling made me turn.

"Oh, Kurt?" he called after me, his voice more even. He leaned toward the open window with a faint smile on his lips.

"Yes?"

"Did you forget something?"

"I don't think so?" I said, my hand reaching for my jacket. I meant to ask him what he was talking about but he was out of the car and by my side before I could even open my mouth.

He took both his hands and held my face reaching for my lips with his own and pressing them against mine. I sighed and breathed into the kiss, losing my stability as I welcomed his tongue inside my mouth, already lost to all my senses. The aching need to hold him, which I had been internally hibernating stealthily all day, was suddenly ripe for harvest and my hands sprung out automatically to clutch at his sides and hold him tightly, our tongues working some weird dance, my senses going dangerously haywire now. I paused, having to catch my breath indignantly as I didn't want to stop but he crooked a crazy evil smirk at me and I desperately threw myself at him again, feeling him laugh into the kiss, lazily moving his hand into my hair and when we finally did stop I stood there for the longest time just holding him, our bodies breathing in sync, although I was quite sure that he didn't need to breathe at all.

And then he gazed one last time into my eyes before he was gone, the car speeding down the street and disappearing around the corner before I could even collect my thoughts. I smiled as I walked to the house, desperately trying to regain my composure. It was clear he was planning to see me tomorrow, if nothing else and the thought drifted me into sleep.

That night Blaine starred in my dreams, as usual, shirtless and perfect. However, the climate of my unconsciousness had changed. It thrilled with the same electricity that had charged the afternoon only I awoke in the middle of the night to a very obvious arousal in the old grey sweats I had dared to wear to bed tonight. This in itself presented a problem. I couldn't ignore it and go to sleep because—well, it _hurt_. But I couldn't touch myself there either, it didn't really make me feel comfortable imagining such a thing and after the sticky mess of the backyard incident before I had sworn to never try such a thing again.

But Blaine was my _boyfriend_ now and I just had to get used to these things being natural when I had a guy that meant male swimsuit catalogue models no longer had an effect on me.

It was only after I had let go of my inhibitions that I was finally able to let go. Reminding myself of how incredibly sexy he was, I was no longer embarrassed as I managed to slip my hand passed the waistband of my underwear and reach for my hardened cock. Groaning softly at the contact, I began stroking myself, feeling instant relief as I pictured his glorious face. I learned very quickly that I felt much better the faster I went as I did so and my hand began moving to a different rhythm to accommodate my desire for Blaine all on its own, faster and faster as I moved it up and down. My eyes were shut tight, it was much easier to picture him there that way, and my body shook with sheer pleasure as I imagined him touching me, and as I moaned his name welcomingly finishing myself off, I was finally relaxed and exhausted enough to peacefully drift back to sleep.

When I woke that morning I was still tired, but edgy as well as I moved promptly into the shower mentally cursing myself for letting the come dry off on my chest last night. I wasn't used to it. I had episodes like last night before but I usually waited until I was in the shower to do anything about it and the men I had imagined in the past had always been nameless.

After blow-drying my hair I pulled on my brown turtleneck and a set of tight dark jeans, sighing as I daydreamed of a day where I could flaunt outfits out of my summer collection again. I hoped for breakfast to be a quiet event but Burt insisted he fry eggs for himself and I wasn't down with what they did to his cholesterol levels, so I whipped him up some scrambled eggs instead following a recipe that would be better for his diet. I however, resigned to my bowl of cereal. I wondered if he had forgotten about this Saturday. He answered my unspoken question as he stood up to take his plate to the sink.

"About this Saturday…" he began, walking across the kitchen and turning on the faucet.

I cringed, remembering what I had told Blaine yesterday and realizing now was as good a time as any to tell Burt. "Yes, Dad?"

"Are you still set on going to Seattle?" he asked.

"That was the plan." I grimaced. "Although there's been a slight alteration."

"Alteration?" He asked as he squeezed some dish soap onto his plate and swirled it around with the brush.

"Blaine will be accompanying me."

"Oh." There was an awkward pause and then, "And you're sure you both can't make it back in time for the dance?"

"I'm not going to the dance, Dad." I said bluntly, "And while we're on the subject, I don't think Blaine is either."

"Didn't he ask you?" he asked, trying to hide his concern by focusing on rinsing the plate.

I sidestepped the minefield. "It's a girl's choice dance."

"Oh." He repeated frowning as he dried his plate.

I sympathized with him. It must be a hard thing, to be a father; living in fear that your gay son would meet a boy he liked, but also having to worry if that boy broke your son's heart. I shuddered, not ever wanting to meet Burt's reaction if he ever found out what Blaine really was.

Burt left then, with a goodbye wave, and I went upstairs to brush my teeth and gather my books. When I heard his car pull away, I could only wait a few seconds before I had to peek out of my window. The silver car was already there, waiting in Burt's spot on the driveway. I bounded down the stairs and out the front door, wondering how long this bizarre routine would continue. I never wanted it to end.

He waited in the car, not appearing to watch as I shut the door behind me without bothering to lock the dead-bolt. I walked to the car, pausing shyly before opening the door and stepping in. He was smiling, relaxed —and, as usual, perfect and beautiful to an excruciating degree.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice was silky. "How was your morning?" His eyes roamed over my face, as if his question was something more than simple courtesy.

"It was good." I was always good — much more than good — when I was near him. "I told Burt about Saturday."

His gaze lingered on the circles under my eyes. "Did he take it well? You look tired."

"Well Dad did want to know why we both weren't going to the dance," I explained to him, "But I guess I look tired because I couldn't sleep." I wasn't about to tell him what I had been doing up though.

"Don't worry," he teased as he started the engine. "I didn't get much sleep either." I was becoming used to the quiet purr of the Volvo. I was sure the roar of my truck would scare me, whenever I got to drive it again.

I laughed. "I guess that's right. Do you even need to sleep?"

"It isn't necessary. But it always feels better after I've rested at the very least. The others tend to sleep a lot easier than I do. I was on my own for a bit last night."

"What were you doing?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Not a chance. It's my day to ask questions."

"Oh, that's right. What do you want to know?" My forehead creased. I couldn't imagine anything about me that could be in any way interesting to him.

"What's your favorite color?" he asked.

"It changes from day to day."

"What's your favorite color today?" He asked smiling.

"I like a variety of colors at any given time. Matching however is essential."

"Clashing is criminal," he agreed, grinning.

We were already at the school. He turned back to me as he pulled into a parking space.

"What music is in your CD player right now?" he asked, his face as somber as if he'd asked for a murder confession.

"Wicked soundtrack," I said without hesitation.

He flipped open a compartment under his car's CD player, pulled out one of thirty or so CDs that were jammed into the small space, and handed it to me, "So you like Menzel?"

I examined the familiar cover art, keeping my eyes down, as I smiled and pushed the CD into the device.

It continued like that for the rest of the day. While he walked me to English, when he met me after Spanish, all through the lunch hour, he questioned me relentlessly about every insignificant detail of my existence. Movies I'd liked and hated, the few places I'd been and the many places I wanted to go, and music — especially music.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd talked so much. More often than not, I felt self-conscious, certain I must be boring him. But the amount of interest he showed in everything I said motivated me to continue. I'd never had someone so interested in me before. Mostly his questions were easy, only a few making me blush. The few times he noticed the crimson in my cheeks however, brought on a whole new round of questions.

Like when he asked me what I had last dreamed about, and I blurted out "You," before even thinking. He'd been flinging questions at me with such speed that I felt like I was taking one of those psychiatric tests where you answer with the first word that comes to mind. My face reddened further because, lately my dreams of him had been of a more sexual nature and it was impossible, while staring back into his topaz eyes, not to remember this, especially after last night's episode. And, naturally, he wouldn't rest until I'd admitted why I was embarrassed.

"Tell me," he finally commanded after persuasion failed — failed only because I kept my eyes safely away from his face.

"Not now," I sighed, staring down at my hands as I fiddled aimlessly with my fingers. "It involves us sharing something intimate and private."

_Please, get it._ I begged, _Please for the love of all things GaGa just let this one go…_

There was a slight pause as I saw him working it out via his facial expressions and then finally, "Oh," was all he said, his mouth resting open at the thought. But then without any notice he blurted, "Kurt, did you have a sex dream about me?"

I instantly looked around the room and while no one was paying us any attention, the novelty of two boys getting cozy had obviously worn out; I still didn't want anyone knowing about our business, "Blaine! You can't just ask me things like that! I don't want anyone else to know!"

"Why?" he pressed, "It's only natural." He bent low towards my ear whispering, "I bet half these boys are shamelessly thinking of you every night in their dreams anyway. I know I am".

While I should have just melted into a puddle worthy of Elphaba right then and there I instead felt growing confidence instill within me. "I suppose that's something we're just going to have to work through together," I answered, smiling coyly and surprised at my own daring to say something so sexy. Damn you, Carrie Bradshaw.

Finn was right. Blaine did look like he wanted to devour me. But not in a way that was going to harm me. "So what kinds of flowers do you prefer?" he asked, his voice slightly going higher as he noticeably crossed his legs together under the table.

Biology was a complication again. Blaine had continued with his quizzing up until Mr. Banner entered the room, dragging the audiovisual frame again. As the teacher approached the light switch, instead of reaching for my hand, Blaine placed it on my thigh instead. It didn't help. As soon as the room was dark, there was the same electric spark, the same restless craving to hold him tightly, except this time all I could think about was what would happen if his hand went further south.

I didn't look at him, afraid that if he was looking at me, it would only make self-control that much harder. I sincerely tried to watch the movie, but at the end of the hour I had no idea what I'd just seen. I sighed in relief again when Mr. Banner turned the lights on. I finally glanced at Blaine; he _was_ looking at me, his eyes ambivalent.

He rose in silence and then stood still, waiting for me. We walked toward the gym in silence, like yesterday. And, also like yesterday, he touched my face wordlessly — this time with the back of his cool hand, stroking once from my temple to my jaw — but this time reaching for my lips to kiss me in the hallway before he turned and walked away.

Gym passed quickly as I watched Finn's one-man badminton show. We talked again about our parents; he mentioned something about Carole talking about rings and Rachel wanting to go shop with her, but there was no more talk of Blaine. Somewhere, in a corner of my mind, I wanted him to say something again. But I couldn't concentrate on that.

I hurried to change afterward, knowing the faster I moved, the sooner I would be with Blaine. The pressure made me more clumsy than usual, but eventually I made it out the door, feeling the way I only could when I was around him, when I saw him standing there, a wide smile automatically spreading across my face. He smiled in reaction before launching into more cross-examination questions.

His questions were different now, though, not as easily answered. He wanted to know what I missed about home, insisting on descriptions of anything he wasn't familiar with. We sat in front of Burt's house for hours, as the sky darkened and rain plummeted around us in a sudden deluge.

I tried to describe what I missed about summer and Ohio — like the high, keening sound of the cicadas in July, cloudless skies, the convenience of the Lima Bean and why it was everyone's go to café. The hardest thing to explain was why it was so beautiful to me — to justify a beauty that didn't depend on dead skeleton branches that looked like Mary-Kate Olsen on a bad day, a beauty that had more to do with the exposed shape of the land, and being able to bask in the sun. I found myself using my hands as I tried to describe it to him.

His quiet questions kept me talking freely, forgetting, in the dim light of the storm, to be embarrassed for monopolizing the conversation. Heaven forbid, I become like Rachel. Finally, when I had finished detailing my forgotten summer wardrobe room at home, he paused instead of responding with another question.

"Are you finished?" I asked in relief.

"Not even close — but your father will be home soon."

"Burt!" I suddenly recalled his existence, and sighed. I looked out at the rain-darkened sky, but it gave nothing away. "How late is it?" I wondered out loud as I glanced at the clock. I was surprised by the time— Burt would be driving home now.

"It's twilight," Blaine murmured, looking at the western horizon, obscured as it was with clouds. His voice was thoughtful, as if his mind were somewhere far away. I stared at him as he gazed unseeingly out the windshield.

I was still staring when his eyes suddenly shifted back to mine.

"It's the safest time of day for us," he said, answering the unspoken question in my eyes. "The easiest time. But also the saddest, in a way…the end of another day, the return of the night. Darkness is so predictable, don't you think?" He smiled wistfully.

"I like the night. Without the dark, we'd never see the stars." I frowned. "Not that you see them here much." He laughed, and the mood abruptly lightened.

"Burt will be here in a few minutes. I'm glad you told him I'll be with you on Saturday…"

"I'm glad I told him too." I gathered my books, realizing I was stiff from sitting still so long. "So is it my turn tomorrow, then? For questions?"

"Certainly not!" His face was teasingly outraged. "I told you I wasn't done, didn't I?"

"Really? What more is there?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." He leaned across to kiss me goodbye but he suddenly froze.

"What is it?" I was surprised to see that his jaw was clenched, his eyes disturbed.

He glanced at me for a brief second. "Another complication," he said glumly.

He flung the door open for me in one swift movement, and then moved, almost cringed, swiftly away from me. The flash of headlights through the rain caught my attention as a dark car pulled up to the curb just a few feet away, facing us.

"Burt's around the corner," he warned, staring through the downpour at the other vehicle. I hopped out at once, despite my confusion and curiosity. The rain was louder as it glanced off my jacket. I tried to make out the shapes in the front seat of the other car, but it was too dark. I could see Blaine illuminated in the glare of the new car's headlights; he was still staring ahead, his gaze locked on something or someone I couldn't see. His expression was a strange mix of frustration and defiance. Then he revved the engine, and the tires squealed against the wet pavement. The Volvo was out of sight in seconds.

"Hey, Kurt," called a familiar, husky voice from the driver's side of the little black car.

"Dave?" I asked, squinting through the rain. Just then, Burt's car swung around the corner, his lights shining on the occupants of the car in front of me.

Dave was already climbing out, his wide grin visible even through the darkness. In the passenger seat was a much older man; he wore glasses and clothes that looked as though his mom had sewn him which made him look even older despite his expensive leather jacket. His eyes were surprisingly familiar, black eyes that seemed at the same time both too young and too ancient for the broad face they were set in. Dave's father, Artie Black. I knew him immediately, though in the more than five years since I'd seen him last I'd managed to forget his name when Burt had spoken of him my first day here. He was staring at me, scrutinizing my face, so I smiled tentatively at him. His eyes were wide, as if in shock or fear, his nostrils flared. My smile faded.

Another complication, Blaine had said.

Artie still stared at me with intense, anxious eyes. I groaned internally. Had Artie recognized Blaine so easily? Could he really believe the impossible legends his son had scoffed at?

The answer was clear in Artie's eyes. Yes. Yes, he could.

~.~

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><p><strong>AN: **I'm sorry this took so long but as previously mentioned my latest Klaine story _The Stranger's Son _involving teacher!Kurt and student!Blaine has taken over my head right now and been the only thing I've been able to write during my very limited spare time. Yet I have not forgotten this story and intend to finish it! We're halfway there _Klainelighters_! And we're reaching the meadow scene soon so stick around! Also, if anyone is interested, I recently got a tumblr: paperstylehearts dot tumblr dot com


	12. Chapter 12, Part One: Balancing

**A/N: **Due to the overwhelming length of this chapter I had to cut it into two parts. Enjoy!

**Warning: This story contains Adult Content.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Twelve – <strong>Balancing<strong>

**Part One**

~.~

"Artie!" Burt called out as soon as he got out of the car. "I can't believe it! How are you?"

I hadn't seen Burt get this excited before. It reminded me of the moment when you return to school over the summer holidays and are finally able to see that friend you weren't able to get in touch with the entire break and had really missed as a result—except this was more like five or six summer breaks between Burt and Artie. I turned toward the house, beckoning to David as I ducked under the porch.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't see you behind the wheel, Dave," Burt said disapprovingly as he moved to join me.

"We get permits early on the rez," David lied unsatisfactorily as Burt laughed at him while I unlocked the door and flicked on the porch light.

"Sure you do," Burt added, still smiling.

"No really, he's an exception," Artie explained from the window of the car, "I mean I have to get around somehow!" I recognized Artie's jovial yet serious voice easily, even though the last time I saw him would have been the last time we were here in Forks. The sound of Artie's voice brought me back to my childhood and made me feel uneasy, almost as if I was a child again. I went inside, leaving the door open behind me and turning on the inside lights before I hung up my jacket. Burt and David helped Artie out of the car and into his wheelchair while I backed out of the way as the three of them hurried in, shaking off the rain.

"It really is great to see you." I heard Burt telling Artie. I felt guilty knowing they had only stopped talking because of me but happy that Mom had persuaded them to reignite their friendship, even if was while she was sick.

"It's been too long," Artie answered. "I hope it's not a bad time. I haven't seen you since you got back. I've heard you've been spending a lot of time with Carole Newton." He chuckled but his dark eyes flashed up to me again, their expression unreadable.

"No, it's great that you're here. I hope you can stay for the game."

David grinned. "I think that's the plan — our TV broke last week."

Artie made a face at his son. "And, of course, David was anxious to see Kurt again," he added. David scowled and ducked his head while I fought back the urge to laugh like a Japanese schoolgirl.

"Are you hungry?" I asked him, turning toward the kitchen. I was eager to escape Artie and his searching gaze.

"Sure," David answered.

"How about you, Dad?" I called over my shoulder, walking alone around the corner. He agreed to some food too, his voice moving in the direction of the front room and the TV. I could hear Artie's chair follow.

The grilled low-fat cheese sandwiches were in the frying pan and I was slicing up a tomato when I sensed someone behind me.

"Need some help in here?" David asked. His enthusiasm was hard to resist.

"I never need help when cooking." I smiled, pausing for a second. "So how are things? Did you finish your car?"

"No." He frowned. "I still need parts. I should really visit Burt in his shop unless... you didn't come by any parts yet, did you?"

"Sorry. I haven't seen any master colanders."

He started laughing, "Guess you really do love cooking!"

"Why? What's so funny?"

"They're called master cylinders! It's okay, I'll ask Burt about it before we go." He paused, and then he seemed to suddenly remember something, "By the way, is something wrong with the truck?"

"No. Why?"

"I was just wondering because you weren't driving it." I stared down at the pan, pulling up the edge of a sandwich to check the bottom side. "I got a ride with—a friend."

"Nice ride." David's voice was admiring. "I didn't recognize the driver, though. I thought I knew most of the kids around here."

I nodded noncommittally, keeping my eyes down as I flipped sandwiches.

"My dad seemed to know him from somewhere."

"David, could you hand me some plates? They're in the cupboard over the sink."

"Sure." He got the plates in silence. I hoped he would let it drop now.

"So who was it?" he asked, setting the plates on the counter next to me. _Oh, _I realized, _apparently not_.

I sighed in defeat. There was no point in hiding it from him. "Blaine Cullen."

To my surprise, he laughed. When I glanced up at him though, he looked a little embarrassed. "Guess that explains it, then," he said. "I wondered why my dad was acting so strange."

"That's right." I said, trying to sound innocent. "I forgot he doesn't like the Cullens."

"Superstitious old man," David muttered under his breath.

"You don't think he'd say anything to Burt, do you? About them?" I couldn't help asking, the words coming out in a low rush. David stared at me for a moment, and I couldn't read the expression in his dark eyes. "I doubt it," he finally answered.

"Dave, he's been trying to hide clues about vampires in those fishing books he always gives to Burt!"

"Really? Good thing Burt doesn't read then…"

"Dave!"

"Relax, would you? I think Burt chewed him out pretty good last time. They haven't spoken much since — well, we both know when. I don't think he'd bring it up. He's really enjoying having his friend back."

"Fine," I said, trying to sound indifferent.

I stayed in the front room after I carried the food out to Burt, pretending to watch the game while David spoke to me casually. I nodded every few moments when he paused, listening but not listening; I was watching for any sign that Artie was about to out Blaine and his family, trying to think of ways to stop him if he began.

"Kurt, these are really good!" Dave boasted.

"Oh hush—they're just sandwiches…"

"Kurt's just being modest," Burt said, eyes still glued on the TV, "You should come over more often and see some of the other stuff he cooks."

"That'd be great!" Dave agreed, his eyes focused on me as he said it.

It was a long night. I had a lot of homework that was going undone, but I was afraid to leave Artie alone with Burt. Finally, the game ended.

"Are you and your friends coming back to the beach soon?" David asked as he pushed his father over the lip of the threshold.

"I'm not sure," I said honestly. "But I would love to see you again, though. It'd be great if we could have that catch up."

Dave's eyes trailed to the floor, "Somehow I don't think I stand a chance seeing you again with Cullen around."

I narrowed my eyes, "Blaine doesn't dictate who my friends are," I pointed out, "And you shouldn't assume he does so either." I thought I might have caught a mumbled apology but I couldn't be quite sure; Dave just nodded eyes still on the floor.

"I wasn't talking about that. I was talking about my Dad. He probably won't want me coming here anymore if you're hanging around Cullen."

"Oh." I said, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped so quickly. I feel like a hypocrite now telling you not to assume when that's just what I did! Well, maybe Dad and I could come over to yours for the next game?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds really good."

"Just get the TV fixed. Or better –use it as an excuse to go shopping and get another one! Not that anyone would need an excuse to go shopping. Especially when they live in Washington State."

He smiled at me. I think he meant to say something else but both our father's were approaching now and I got the hint that it wasn't anything he'd want to say in front of them.

"That was fun, Burt," Artie said.

"Come up for the next game," Burt encouraged, stopping to stand by the doorway as Artie wheeled himself over to the car. "Or if you don't, we're coming to yours!"

"Of course," Artie said. "We'll see each other soon either way. Have a good night." His eyes shifted to me standing by David a fair few meters from the door, and his smile disappeared. "Kurt," he added seriously. "A word please? Dave, do you mind waiting in the car?"

"Aww Dad, if you're gonna start about—"

"Car, David."

Dave shot me an apologetic look and headed back silently to the driver's seat. Artie glanced to where Burt was standing in the doorway but he didn't seem to look like he was in any mind to interrupt the pending conversation. "Does he know?" Artie whispered eyes still on Burt.

"Know what?" I asked innocently but Artie saw right through me shaking his head. He sighed, "Just—I'm not going to tell you to be careful because you're a teenager and I know any phrase of advice is just going to fly right over your head right now. Also despite what I say, I know you're going to do whatever you want. But, at the very least, think of your father, Kurt. He's already lost Elizabeth. Do you honestly think he'd be able to stand losing you too?"

For the longest time I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I couldn't believe Artie had played that angle. "He's going to be fine," I said, my voice shaking but as soft and calm as I was able to make it given the circumstances. "And you know how I know that? Because he's _not_ going to lose me. That is never going to happen. Good night, Mr. Black."

I turned and passed Burt by the door as he stood there waving as Dave reversed out. I wanted to bolt for my room but Burt's voice stopped me. "What did Artie want?" he asked casually.

"Oh—you know. He just wanted to know about the truck. But then he realized what a great mechanic of a father I have and that there was just no point in asking!" I let out a small 'ha!' but it was faked and I was sure Burt would catch on. I tried to make another move for my room but was stopped again. "Wait, Kurt," he said. I cringed. Had Artie managed to slip something in before I'd had a chance to join them in the living room?

But Burt was relaxed, still grinning from the unexpected visit. "We haven't had much of a chance to talk one on one. And you know how important that is to me so… tell me. How was your day? How's school?"

"Good." I hesitated with one foot on the first stair, searching for details I could safely share. "My badminton team won all four games."

"You play badminton?" He had every right to sound surprised.

"Well, actually I can't, but Finn is really good," I admitted. "He offered to partner with me."

To my delight, Burt nodded in the utmost admiration, "I'm really proud of you boys, you know. I know you only made the effort to get along for mine and Carole's sake but now look at you both." He paused looking down at the floor as he spoke, "And… speaking of Carole, I heard you've been calling her Mom."

My eyes grew wide; I hadn't even considered how he'd feel about it. "That's okay with you, right?"

"Of course! Hey, as long as you're only doing it because you feel comfortable about it. In the end it don't matter what I think."

"I am comfortable, Dad. I really love her, I think she's great."

He smiled at me. "Glad to hear it. Good thing you and Finn didn't end up too friendly if you know what I mean."

"Dad!" I groaned. "He's kind of dating my friend Rachel! And we consider each other brothers!"

He smiled at me apologetically. "I'm only stirring! So… I guess it's good you'll be gone Saturday. I've made plans to go fishing with the guys down at the shop. Probably will get Artie to come out too now that the weather's supposed to be real warm. But if you and Blaine wanted to put your trip off to go to the dance, make sure to let me know. Carole will do my head in if she doesn't get a photo."

~.~

By the next morning, the tense evening with Artie seemed harmless enough now so I decided to forget it completely. I caught myself humming while fixing the last out of place hair with my hairspray can. Burt noticed. "You're cheerful this morning," he commented over breakfast. "And no cans of hairspray at the table."

I shrugged. "Of course I'm cheerful. It's Friday." I hurried so I wouldn't have to make Blaine wait. I had my satchel ready, shoes on, teeth brushed, but even though I rushed to the door in record time, Blaine was faster. Though I was early, he was already waiting in his shiny car, windows down, engine off.

"Looks like your ride is here," Burt chuckled, "Tell him to come in and say hi next time!"

I quickly grabbed a bagel off the counter before waving bye to Burt and confidently climbing in the passenger side quickly, eager to see Blaine. He grinned at me, stopping my breath and my heart as he kissed me earnestly by way of morning greeting.

"So, I was thinking since we were early, we might go someplace private and talk. That is of course, if that is okay with you?"

"Of course," I said softly, "That is more than okay, actually. Do you have any idea where we could go?"

He nodded, "There's a park just off the main road that leads to the school. We'll find parking easily with the Volvo."

I must have been getting used to the car because when the engine stopped, I hadn't even realized until Blaine had placed his arm around me and we started talking. He wanted to know about people today: more about Elizabeth, her hobbies, what we'd done in our free time together. And then the one grandmother I'd known, my few old school friends — embarrassing me when he asked about boys I'd dated. I'd never really dated anyone, so that particular conversation couldn't last long. He seemed as surprised as Rachel and Tina by my lack of romantic history.

"So you never met anyone you wanted?" he asked in a serious tone that made me wonder what he was thinking about.

I was grudgingly honest. "Not in Lima. I was the only gay kid at that school or at least the only out gay kid. I had a few unrequited crushes but they were—stupidly—on straight men."

His lips pressed together into a cheeky smile. "Well, I'm not sure how _stupid_ that was. A lot of straight men here are crushing on you."

His comment caught me by surprise. "Really? How is that possible?"

He looked surprised, "You don't know? Uh, let's see… I think the fact that you're very attractive might have something to do with it. You're so confident with who you are that some guys have had to question themselves… And you somehow manage to pull off looking unbelievably sexy in a wardrobe that doesn't allow you to do very much with it."

"Well, I do always manage to always look good," I sighed smiling into his embrace. I didn't for one second think he was being shallow – maybe a little flirtatious – but if anything, I had learnt that Blaine was genuine. His arm around me suddenly relaxed. "Join me in the back seat?" he asked.

"Um s-sure," I stammered embarrassing myself no doubt. I had just enough room in the back seat to lay my head on Blaine's lap. I had to prop my knees up though but I was less concerned about that and more inclined towards mentally congratulating myself for packing an extra can of hairspray in my satchel as Blaine was currently playing with my hair. Normally I wouldn't have been comfortable with it but the way his cool fingers ran through the strands on my head was unexpectedly calming.

"So uh… w-who else is thinking about me?" I whispered, speaking my curious thoughts out loud.

Blaine didn't hesitate, "Colin Murphy, the senior. And I'm pretty sure he has a girlfriend. Also that guy Josh Comen who reckons it's his _duty_ to straighten out lesbians. I have it on good authority he's been picturing you in the school showers. He's been wondering if you'd be any better than Stacey Keaton at giving blowjobs."

"Is that so?" I asked grinning. I had to admit it was rather complimenting knowing all of this even though the information wasn't going to change anything. "And what about that Cullen kid—Blaine I think his name is—he wouldn't happen to be thinking of me also, would he?"

"Oh _that_ guy!" Blaine smiled, playing along. "Yes, he definitely likes to think about you too. But it's what he has dreams about that is a lot more interesting."

"I see," I finally managed to choke out, "Can I ask _what_ his dreams are about?"

"No." He grinned. "I was rather hoping I could show you."

I sat up slowly and turned around to face him; I must have misunderstood. Or had I not heard correctly? Were my hormones that crazy that they were creating something unrealistically tangible out of my overreacting imagination to satisfy my craving for Blaine?

But I wasn't going to have cut the crazy. Because Blaine was being serious. When he saw my face though, he seemed to be embarrassed himself, immediately reaching for the back of his neck and smiling awkwardly as he looked at the floor of his car.

"I'm sorry," he said, "Was that a little too forward?"

And that was all it took. Now that I knew that I hadn't just imagined him saying what he did, my confidence raised to an extremely new all time height. "Not at all," I whispered shifting over even closer to him and reaching for his thigh, massaging the leg muscle gently with my hand. I breathed down his neck then tilted my head up so my still whispered voice could directly reach his ear. "So what exactly did this dream consist of?"

Blaine's grin was back as he rubbed his nose against mine quickly brushing our lips together before gently placing his hand around my waist so he could pull me closer to him. "We were in the backseat of my car, quite like this only—I had you right under me and… you were wearing a lot less clothes."

"Well then, if you want that vision to come true, you're going to need my help, you see. I'm wearing a lot more layers then you'd think." I slowly fell backwards allowing him to gently place my back against the seat of the Volvo as I began taking off the top part of my clothes.

Blaine was shorter than me so he didn't take up as much room in the car as I did but my being taller meant that I ended up with my legs stuck up at an odd ninety degree angle, my knees bent so my feet could rest against just the end of the car. The unplanned position though allowed no room between his hard-on and my jeans which meant I could feel his length pressing into me. I wasn't complaining. And I guess that was the reason I couldn't control the gasp that escaped my lips as I felt him press up on me a second time.

"Let me help you with that last shirt of yours, Mr. Swan." Blaine said skillfully reaching for my buttons and undoing them the second I had nodded my head in consent. His eyes grew wide as he saw my chest and I'm sure if he could blush he would have been. It was like he had never seen a half naked man before. He traced the contours of my chest muscles as if he wanted to memorize every last bit of my upper body and I couldn't help but giggle. He noticed my amusement immediately.

"Forgive me," he said still tracing his fingers all over my chest, "It's been over a century and while I've done my fair share of research, nothing could have prepared me for how beautiful you are."

I couldn't help it – I actually snorted. His eyes narrowed, "Don't mock me! I'm being serious. Even in my dreams, dreams which have allowed me of late to rest a lot more easily, I did not imagine such perfection. And I must also seek your forgiveness for my amateurish ways. I don't exactly know what I'm doing."

"It's okay," I assured him, "You're doing fine. I mean my jeans are causing a little called for hurting but this modestly reconstructed scene here widely resembles the dreams _I_ have – except in mine you were also wearing a lot less clothes."

He laughed and pulled his shirt over his head in less than three seconds. Though it was still early in the morning, the clouds had darkened the sky and his crafted muscular abs seemed to glow in the car. I couldn't help but stare. My male swimsuit model catalogues certainly were nothing compared to him.

At this point I was starting to grow incredibly uncomfortable and Blaine seemed to notice the strain I was facing because he stared down at the silver buckle and played with it teasingly. "Here, let me help with you that too…"

With just the right amount of aptitude, Blaine managed to withdraw my belt so it hung loose by the sides of my jeans. He then slowly, and excruciatingly, pulled the zipper down and I was forced to moan again as I felt the friction from the fastener against my erection. I lifted my waist just high enough so that Blaine had the right amount of space to pull my jeans down to my knees and expose my underwear, the lust obvious in his darkened eyes.

"Tell me if I'm going too fast," he said his voice pained as if he was mentally cursing himself for not telling me this earlier.

"You're not," I reassured him again, "If we're being honest here, I don't exactly know what I'm doing either. All I know is… I don't want you to stop."

"Then is this okay?" he asked, rubbing my hard-on through my underwear with his wrist.

"Mmhmm," I said my eyes closed, allowing everything else to just disappear so I could _feel_.

"And this?" he asked again, this time placing his hand under my waistband and stroking my cock almost too dexterously as he moved his palm up and down. I groaned loudly.

"Yes – Blaine! _Yes_!" I was squirming under his touch now. "God—yes!"

His hand was so cool and my penis was warm and hard from being erect but the cool-on-warm contact was actually more pleasurable then I could have ever imagined. He rubbed his thumb over the slit of my cock and it felt so good that I cried out loud. I could have sworn the birds in the park heard me as they flew over us at the sound of my voice but I couldn't have cared less.

Blaine seemed to read my movements because I knew he couldn't read my thoughts and when I all but sat up, my hands reaching for his face, he allowed me to grab him as I crushed my lips against his allowing him to continue the expert way he handled me, running my hands through his hair, kissing him feverishly as I moved my way past his mouth and started sucking into his neck.

"You're so good at that," he told me, "see, I have to be so careful with your neck. It's the point where the desire to devour you becomes almost animalistic. If I were to ever lose control around you, I'd never forgive myself. I almost did once and I—"

I shook my head, "No," I interrupted him, "You'd. Never."

Between the kisses, between the facts that our tongues were shoved down each other's throats, I managed to get a few more words out. "Oh! Blaine I—Oh! Please? I want… want…"

"What do you want, beautiful? I'd give you the stars and moon if I could." He moved his hand faster as he spoke.

"Ohhh! GOD! Shit, no. I mean. Fuck. I just want to… I just want to."

What I wanted to do was make him feel just as good as he was making me feel. But I couldn't get the words out; I had lost all control over my senses. So instead I decided to do what Blaine seemed to have the right idea about. I decided to show him.

I reached for the erection obvious in his pants but I didn't work as slow as he did. I didn't have vampire speed but I had a whole heap of raging teenage male hormones and damn if they didn't work just as fast. Blaine's belt was already undone and I had my hand already in there, desperate to make him also just… _feel_.

I heard him moan and God, if it wasn't the sexiest sound I had ever heard. He pushed his head back as far away from my neck as possible exposing his own neck and I wanted to reach out and suck on it again but with the way his hand was moving, I was really starting to worry that I might mess up his very expensive car…

"Blaine, you have to stop, I'm going to—"

But he took care of that in an instant and I was forced to let go of his cock as he pushed me onto the back seat of his car again and without warning swallowed me whole. I wasn't expecting it. He hadn't prepared me for it, hadn't led up to it and so, before I knew it was happening, I was coming down his throat, my forehead etched in sweat, my fingers marking his back in a lot less harmful way then they would if he were human.

"Blaine!" I said as he took in every last drop, climbing on top of me as I lay under him naked and panting. And then I couldn't manage to get another word out, desperate as I was to get my breath back.

It was a few minutes before he spoke, "I don't think there's been a rhythm quite more beautiful than the beat of your heart."

I held him impossibly tighter sighing in content until I realized, "Oh shit! Blaine! I'm so sorry… Did you need me to er… help you out?"

He chuckled, "As sexy as that sounds, I'll survive. I'm afraid it's time we left."

It's funny how I seemingly forgot about real life whenever I was with Blaine but now that I had been brought back to Earth I began to worry. I knew we had left my house early but –

"Are we going to be on time for school? Or am I going to need a blindfold the entire journey because of your ridiculous compulsion to speed?" He was already doing up his pants and climbing into the front seat as I hastily scrambled to put my clothes back on again.

"That depends…" he said, "Do you promise not to look at the speedometer whilst I'm driving?"

"Blaine!"

"Kurt! Please let me speed a little or we will not make it in time for school."

I sighed but I wasn't giving in. "And by 'a little,' exactly how many miles per hour are we talking about?"

He didn't answer my question as he started the engine. As he reversed out he smiled saying, "Maybe a blindfold on you isn't such a bad idea…"

~.~

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **As always, thank you for all your lovely reviews! This was the first time I ever attempted to write something as intense as this so I really appreciate hearing what you guys think. More of this? Less of it? Does it fit or should I have I left it out? Feel free to mention it in the reviews. Also, for all your _Klainelight_ updates, I post every so often on tumblr: paperstylehearts dot tumblr dot com

P.S. to **Rachel**: I truly wish there was some way I could email you or send you a private message but for now this will have to suffice! You have no idea how much your kind words mean to me and I am so happy to be able to actually help you even though I wish there was something more I could do for what you went through. Hugs times infinity! Love you! xoxoxo


	13. Chapter 12, Part Two: Balancing

Chapter Twelve – **Balancing**

**Part Two**

**A/N: **Here is the second part of chapter twelve! Next chapter is the highly anticipated meadow scene and I'm really looking forward to writing that! Enjoy and review!

_For Hannah, thank you for giving this story a chance!_

~.~

"Kurt Swan, wipe that smirk off your face, I know you have something to tell me!"

After we had reached school, Rachel had just about jumped me the second Blaine had left my side to find his sister Mercedes so I was pretty much cornered. "Maybe," I teased, "Was my text message that obvious? Can we go somewhere a little more private?"

"Sure!" she said linking our arms together and prattling on and on about Finn as we walked to the tables outside the school. We both had ponchos on as the delicate rain was misting lightly all over the school but we were hopeful that it wouldn't get any heavier as the weather was promising to look a little brighter over the next couple of days. I couldn't remember a time when I was so optimistic about the weather in Forks and I smiled.

"Sooooo, what did you want to talk about?" Rachel asked a knowing look on her face. "You can tell me anything, you know that right? I know we still haven't come to terms with deciding which one of us is the better singer but please—I consider you one of my closest friends!"

I nodded, "Yeah thanks. And FYI, I am _totally_ the better singer. Oh look, here comes Tina!"

Rachel didn't look impressed and I didn't think it had anything to do with the comment that I was the better singer. She tended to tune out when anyone said they were better than her. "Oh hello Tina," Rachel said, "Shouldn't you be somewhere with Mike right now? Kurt and I were just about to have a D & M."

"A what?" she asked looking to me in her confusion but I shrugged as well.

Rachel rolled her eyes as if it weren't the most obvious thing in the world. "A _deep_ and _meaningful_ and _private_ conversation." She was repeatedly jerking her head to the side, as if to subtly tell Tina to go away, but she was being so obvious I didn't have the heart to be rude and Tina had already sat down. "It's fine Rachel, she can stay. Has anyone seen Brit or Lauren? I could really use some girl time."

"Say no more Swan," Lauren greeted as she came round the corner joining us at our table. Rachel put her hands up in defeat. "I just dropped Brit off at the res to spend some time with her girl but what did I miss?"

"Nothing yet," I told her.

"Except Rachel moving her head to the side like she was suffering with a weird spasm!" Tina added, mumbling.

I clapped my hands together, "Okay, so I have a question for you all. How soon is too soon?"

"In regards to what?" Lauren asked.

I looked down at the table, "In regards to relationships…"

"Oh my God, you're sleeping with Blaine!" Rachel exclaimed, clamping both her hands over her mouth.

"What? No! No, no, no, I wasn't talking about _that_. I mean Blaine and I went pretty far this morning but I—"

"How far?" Lauren questioned.

I blushed, "Nah c'mon, I'm sure you don't want all the details."

"We don't," Tina shook her head, "But use the baseball code. How far did you get? We all know you passed first? Have you reached second?"

I was quick to notice how easily I had all of their attention. So with the softest voice I could muster, I huddled us all closer together. "…third, maybe. Sort of. But that wasn't what I—"

"What?" Rachel almost shrieked, hands flying to her face again, "Kurt, that's _really_ soon. Finn and I—"

"—are not Blaine and Kurt," interrupted Lauren, "Good on you, Swan. Happy for you. Maybe Rachel is right and it is a little too soon but you are the own judge of your relationship and only you can decide how fast you want to go."

"Do you love him?" Tina asked a sappy smile on her face as if I were about to retell Romeo and Juliet.

"Well see _that's _what I wanted to talk to you all about. Girls… I'm falling for Blaine. Hard. I just want to know—is it too soon?"

At this, Rachel actually had no ill-comment, "It's never too soon. When you know, you know. I'm happy for you too." She quickly looked at Tina who suddenly broke out of her reverie, "What she means is, we're _all_ happy for you."

~.~

After the talk with the girls, I had spent the rest of the morning with them in the only good bathroom in the school, trying not to look like I had not just had the time of my life in the backseat of a car with a drop-dead gorgeous guy. I didn't regret what had happened. I also didn't feel cheap or easy about it either but I was certainly not going to let myself look like it.

The bell had just rung for lunch when I finally saw Blaine again.

"There's something I have to tell you."

We were in the cafeteria at this point. "And what's that?" I asked.

"I'm leaving with Mercedes after lunch."

"Oh." I blinked, bewildered and disappointed. "That's okay. I'm sure I can hitch a ride with Rachel. Or walk. It isn't that far."

He frowned at me impatiently. "I'm not going to make you walk home. We'll go get your truck and leave it here for you."

"My car keys are in my locker," I sighed. "But I really don't mind walking."

What I minded was losing my time with him.

He shook his head. "Your truck will be here, and the key will be in the ignition — unless you're afraid someone might steal it." He laughed at the thought.

"So where are you going?" I asked as casually as I could manage.

"Hunting," he answered grimly. "If I'm going to be alone with you tomorrow, I'm going to take whatever precautions I can." His face grew morose… and pleading. "You can always cancel, you know. I wouldn't think any differently of you for doing the smarter thing."

I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. _It doesn't_ _matter_, I repeated in my head.

"No," I whispered, glancing back at his face. "I can't."

"Perhaps you're right," he murmured bleakly. His eyes seemed to darken in color as I watched.

I changed the subject. "What time will I see you tomorrow?" I asked, already depressed by the thought of him leaving now.

"That depends… it's a Saturday, don't you want to sleep in?" he offered.

"No," I answered too fast. He restrained a smile.

"The same time as usual, then," he decided. "Will Burt be there?"

"No, he's fishing tomorrow, with Artie and a couple of his friends." I hoped Artie would resound his cool and not bring up anything tomorrow during their trip.

His voice turned sharp. "And if you don't come home, what will he think? Artie would not keep quiet if that happened."

"He knows I'm with you," I answered coolly. "But he knows I've been meaning to do the laundry. Maybe he'll think I fell in the washer."

He scowled at me and I scowled back. His anger was much more impressive than mine. But I just needed more practice. It was hard competing when your boyfriend was over a hundred years old.

"What are you hunting tonight?" I asked when I was sure I had lost the glowering contest.

"Whatever we find in the park. We aren't going far." He seemed bemused by my casual reference to his secret realities.

"Why are you going with Mercedes?" I wondered.

"Mercedes is the most… supportive." He frowned as he spoke.

"And the others?" I asked timidly. "What are they?" His brow puckered for a brief moment.

"Incredulous, for the most part." I peeked quickly behind me at his family. They sat staring off indifferent directions, exactly the same as the first time I'd seen them.

Only now they were only four of them at their table because their beautiful, bronze-haired brother sat across from me, his golden hazel eyes troubled.

"They don't like me," I guessed.

"That's not it," he disagreed, but his eyes were too innocent. "They don't understand why I can't leave you alone."

I grimaced. "Funny. I'm having the same issues."

Blaine shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling before he met my gaze again. "I told you — you don't see yourself clearly at all. You're not like anyone I've ever known. You move me, Kurt. I find myself looking for excuses to spend more time with you."

He smiled as he deciphered my expression. "Having the advantages I do," he murmured, touching his forehead discreetly, "I have a better than average grasp of human nature. People are predictable. But you… you never do what I expect. You zig every time I think you're going to zag and I love that about you."

I looked away, my eyes wandering back to his family.

"The way I feel about you, it's easy enough to explain to them," he continued. I felt his eyes on my face but I couldn't look at him yet, afraid I would burst and admit to him what I had to the girls this morning. "But there's more… and it's not so easy to put into words —"

I was still staring at the Cullens while he spoke. Suddenly Quinn, his blond and breathtaking sister, turned to look at me. No, not to look — to glare, with dark, cold eyes. I wanted to look away, but her gaze held me until Blaine broke off mid-sentence and made an angry noise under his breath. It was almost a hiss.

Quinn turned her head, and I was relieved to be free. I looked back at Blaine — and I knew he could see the confusion and fear that widened my eyes.

His face was tight as he explained. "I'm sorry about that. She's just worried. You see… it's dangerous for more than just me if, after spending so much time with you so publicly…" He looked down.

"If?"

"If this ends… badly." He dropped his head into his hands, as he had that night in Port Angeles. His anguish was plain; I yearned to comfort him, but I was at a loss to know how. My hand reached toward him involuntarily; like it was reflex. I would never tire of holding his hand. I realized slowly that his words should frighten me. I waited for that fear to come, but all I could seem to feel was an ache for his pain.

And frustration — frustration that Quinn had interrupted whatever he was about to say. I didn't know how to bring it up again. He still had his head in his hands.

I tried to speak in a normal voice. "And you have to leave now?" The bell was due to ring soon.

"Yes." He raised his face; it was serious for a moment, and then his mood shifted and he smiled. "It's probably for the best. We still have fifteen minutes of that wretched movie left to endure in Biology — I don't think I could take any more."

I jumped.

Mercedes — her black wavy hair hanging angelically around her round dark face — was suddenly standing behind his shoulder. Though her frame was larger than an average girl's she stood graceful even in absolute stillness.

He greeted her without looking away from me. "Mercedes."

"Blaine," she answered, her musical voice almost as attractive as his.

"Mercedes, Kurt —Kurt, Mercedes," he introduced us, gesturing casually with his hand, a wry smile on his face.

"Hello, Kurt." Her brilliant obsidian eyes were unreadable, but her smile was friendly. "It's nice to finally meet you. Blaine here's told me so much about you."

Blaine flashed a dark look at her. "Please don't embarrass me."

"Hi, Mercedes," I said boldly holding out my hand, "It's nice to meet you too. I've heard you're Rachel's only vocal competition."

"I'd out her in any duel in a human heartbeat! Only… I'm not supposed to bring so much attention to myself. And when _I_ sing – people notice." She turned to Blaine. "Are you ready?" she asked him.

His voice was aloof. "Nearly. I'll meet you at the car."She left without another word; her walk was so fluid, so sinuous that I felt a sharp pang of jealousy. I also felt sorry for her that she wasn't able to share her vocal talent with the world. I couldn't imagine not being able to sing especially with the amazingly wonderful countertenor voice I had.

"Should I say 'have fun,' or is that the wrong sentiment?" I asked, turning back to him.

"No, 'have fun' works as well as anything." He grinned.

"Have fun, then." I worked to sound wholehearted. Of course I didn't fool him.

"I'll try." He still grinned. "And you try to be safe, please."

"Safe in Forks — what a challenge."

"For you it is a challenge." His jaw hardened. "Promise."

"I promise to try to be safe," I recited. "I'll do the laundry tonight, a task wrought with danger."

"Don't fall in," he mocked.

"I'll do my best." He stood then, and I rose, too.

"I'll see you tomorrow," I sighed.

"It seems like a long time to you, doesn't it?" he mused.

I nodded glumly.

"I'll be there in the morning," he promised, smiling his crooked smile.

He reached across the table to touch my face, lightly brushing along my cheekbone again, briefly connecting our lips. Then he turned and walked away. I stared after him until he was gone.

I was sorely tempted to ditch the rest of the day, at the very least Gym, but a warning instinct stopped me. I knew that if I disappeared now, Finn and others would assume I was with Blaine. And Blaine was worried about the time we'd spent together publicly… if things went wrong. I refused to dwell on the last thought, concentrating instead on making things safer for him.

I intuitively knew — and sensed he did, too — that tomorrow would be pivotal. Our relationship couldn't continue to balance, as it did, on the point of a knife. We would fall off one edge or the other, depending entirely upon his decision, or his instincts. My decision was made, made before I'd ever consciously chosen, and I was committed to seeing it through. Because there was nothing more terrifying to me, more excruciating, than the thought of turning away from him. It was an impossibility.

I went to class, feeling dutiful. We watched the remaining of the video in Biology but my mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of tomorrow. In Gym, Finn changed his tune when wished me a good time over the weekend with Blaine. Rachel must've spoken to him. Again.

"Are you going to the dance with Cullen?" he asked, "Mom wants to know – she mentioned something about photos."

"As exciting as that sounds, no, Blaine and I will not be attending the dance at all."

"What are you two doing, then?" he asked, a little too interested.

My natural urge was to tell him to butt out. Instead, I lied brightly. "Well I'll be doing laundry, and then I have to study for the Trig test or I'm going to fail."

"And is Cullen going to come over and help you study?"

"Blaine," I emphasized, "is not going to help me study. We're going away for the weekend." The lies came more naturally than usual, I noted with surprise.

"Oh." He perked up. "You know, you could come to the dance with our group anyway — that would be cool. Even if you're two dudes going together." he promised.

"I'm not going to the dance, Finn, okay?" My tone was a little more frustrated than I had intended it to be.

"Fine." He sulked. "I was just offering. Rachel had this shrewd idea in her head that I could convince you otherwise. Just, if you are going to be spending the whole weekend with him, remember what I said. If Cullen so much as looks at you in a way that makes you feel uncomfortable, I want you to tell me. I've got your back, lil' bro."

"Thanks, er, bro. You do realize I'm older than you, right?"

When the school day had finally ended, I walked to the parking lot without enthusiasm. I did not especially want to walk home, but I had forgotten to give Blaine my car keys out of my locker and couldn't see how he would have retrieved my truck without them. Then again, I was starting to believe that nothing was impossible for him. I was surprised when I found the latter instinct proved correct — my truck sat in the same space he'd parked his Volvo in this morning. I shook my head, incredulous, as I opened the unlocked door and saw the key in the ignition.

There was a piece of white paper folded on my seat. I got in and closed the door before I unfolded it. Two words were written in his elegant script.

_Be safe._

The sound of the truck roaring to life frightened me. I laughed at myself. I was so used to the quiet engine of the Volvo.

I called Rachel when I got home wishing her a good time at the dance. We talked a while before saying bye; she wished me a good time with Blaine too.

Burt was absentminded at dinner, worried over something at work, I guessed, or maybe a basketball game, or maybe he was just really enjoying the lasagna — it was hard to tell with Burt.

"You know, Dad…" I began, breaking into his reverie.

"What's that, kiddo?"

"The freezer is getting dangerously low on fish— we're down to a two, maybe three years' supply."

"You're sure easy to live with, Kurt." He smiled.

"I could say the same thing about you," I said, laughing.

After dinner, I folded clothes and moved another load through the dryer.

Unfortunately it was the kind of job that only keeps hands busy. My mind definitely had too much free time, and it was getting out of control. I fluctuated between anticipation so intense that it was very nearly pain, and an insidious fear that picked at my resolve. I had to keep reminding myself that I'd made my choice, and I wasn't going back on it. I pulled his note out of my pocket much more often than necessary to absorb the two small words he'd written. He wants me to be safe, I told myself again and again. I would just hold on to the faith that, in the end, that desire would win out over the others. And what was my other choice — to cut him out of my life? Intolerable. Besides, since I'd come to Forks, it really seemed like my life was about him.

But a tiny voice in the back of my mind worried, wondering if it would hurt very much… if it ended badly.

I was relieved when it was late enough to be acceptable for bedtime. I had my iPod on calmly shifting through a great selection of classic songs. I lay down, humming to the music as I briefly slipped into the world of sleep.

I woke early, having slept soundly and dreamlessly. Though I was well rested, and had plenty of time, I dressed in a rush, smoothing my collar against my neck, fidgeting with the tan sweater till it hung right over my jeans. I sneaked a swift look out the window to see that Burt was already gone. A thin, cottony layer of clouds veiled the sky. They didn't look very lasting. Looks like Rachel and I were right to be excited about today's weather.

I ate breakfast without tasting the food, hurrying to clean up when I was done. I peeked out the window again, but nothing had changed. I had just finished brushing my teeth and was heading back downstairs when a quiet knock sent my heart thudding against my rib cage.

I flew to the door; I had a little trouble with the simple dead bolt, but I yanked the door open at last, and there he was. All the agitation dissolved as soon as I looked at his face, calm taking its place. I breathed a sigh of relief — yesterday's fears seemed very foolish with him here.

He wasn't smiling at first — his face was somber. But then his expression lightened as he looked me over, and he laughed.

"Good morning," he chuckled.

"What's wrong?" I glanced down to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything important, like shoes, or pants.

"We match." He laughed again. I realized he had a long, light tan sweater on, with a white collar showing underneath, and blue jeans. I laughed with him, hiding a secret twinge of regret — why did he have to look like a runway model when I couldn't?

I locked the door behind me while he walked to the truck. He waited by the passenger door with a martyred expression that was easy to understand.

"We made a deal," I reminded him smugly, climbing into the driver's seat, and reaching over to unlock his door.

"Where to?" I asked.

"Put your seat belt on — I'm nervous already." I gave him a dirty look as I complied.

"Where to?" I repeated with a sigh.

"Take the one-oh-one north," he ordered.

It was surprisingly difficult to concentrate on the road while feeling his gaze on my face. I compensated by driving more carefully than usual through the still-sleeping town.

"Were you planning to make it out of Forks before nightfall?"

"This truck is old enough to be your car's grandfather — have some respect," I retorted.

We were soon out of the town limits, despite his negativity. Thick underbrush and green-swathed trunks replaced the lawns and houses.

"Turn right on the one-ten," he instructed just as I was about to ask. I obeyed silently.

"Now we drive until the pavement ends." I could hear a smile in his voice, but I was too afraid of driving off the road and proving him right to look over and be sure.

"And what's there, at the pavement's end?" I wondered.

"A trail."

"We're hiking?" Thank goodness I'd worn my Chuck Taylors.

"Is that a problem?" He sounded as if he'd expected as much.

"No." I tried to make the lie sound confident. But if he thought my truck was slow…

"Don't worry, it's only five miles or so, and we're in no hurry."

Five miles. I didn't answer, so that he wouldn't hear my voice crack in panic. Five miles of treacherous roots and loose stones, trying to twist my ankles or otherwise incapacitate me. This was going to be humiliating.

We drove in silence for a while as I contemplated the coming horror.

"What are you thinking?" he asked impatiently after a few moments.

I lied again. "Just wondering where we're going."

"It's a place I like to go when the weather is nice." We both glanced out the windows at the thinning clouds after he spoke.

We were silent for the rest of the drive. When the road ended, constricting to a thin foot trail with a small wooden marker. I parked on the narrow shoulder and stepped out. I didn't have driving as an excuse not to look at him anymore. It was warm now, warmer than it had been in Forks since the day I'd arrived, almost muggy under the clouds. I pulled off my sweater and hung it over my shoulders, glad that I'd worn the light, sleeveless shirt — especially if I had five miles of hiking ahead of me. I was also getting used to not wearing layers so much anymore, a fact I was quite sad about.

I heard his door slam, and looked over to see that he'd removed his sweater, too. He was facing away from me, into the unbroken forest beside my truck.

"This way," he said, glancing over his shoulder at me, and holding out his hand for me take. He started into the dark forest.

"Um, Blaine? The trail?" Panic was clear in my voice.

"I said there was a trail at the end of the road, not that we were taking it."

"No trail?" I asked desperately.

"I won't let you get lost." He turned then, with a mocking smile, and I stifled a gasp as he briefly kissed me. His white shirt was sleeveless, and he wore it unbuttoned, so that the smooth white skin of his throat flowed uninterrupted over the marble contours of his chest, his perfect musculature no longer merely hinted at behind concealing clothes. He was too perfect, I realized with a piercing stab of despair. There was no way this boy could be meant for me.

He stared at me, bewildered by my tortured expression.

"Do you want to go home?" he said quietly, a different pain than mine saturating his voice.

"No." I said moving closer, anxious not to waste one second of whatever time I might have with him.

"What's wrong?" he asked his voice gentle.

"I'm not a good hiker," I answered dully. "You'll have to be very patient."

"I can be patient — if I make a great effort." He smiled, holding my glance, trying to lift me out of my sudden, unexplained dejection.

I tried to smile back, but the smile was unconvincing. He scrutinized my face.

"I'll take you home," he promised. I couldn't tell if the promise was unconditional, or restricted to an immediate departure. I knew he thought it was fear that upset me, and I was grateful again that I was the one person whose mind he couldn't hear.

"If you want me to hack five miles through the jungle before sundown, you'd better start leading the way," I said acidly. He frowned at me, struggling to understand my tone and expression.

He gave up after a moment and led the way into the forest.

It wasn't as hard as I had feared. The way was mostly flat, and he held the damp ferns and webs of moss aside for me. When his straight path took us over fallen trees or boulders, he would help me, lifting me by the elbow, and then releasing me instantly when I was clear. His cold touch on my skin never failed to make my heart thud erratically. Twice, when that happened, I caught a look on his face that made me sure he could somehow hear it.

I tried to keep my eyes away from his perfection as much as possible, but I slipped often. Each time, his beauty pierced me through with sadness.

For the most part, we walked in silence. Occasionally he would ask a random question that he hadn't gotten to in the past two days of interrogation. He asked about my birthdays, my grade school teachers, my childhood pets — and I had to admit that after killing three fish in a row, I'd given up on the whole institution. He laughed at that, louder than I was used to, our echoes bouncing back to us from the empty woods.

After several hours, the light that filtered through the canopy transformed, the murky olive tone shifting to a brighter jade. The day had turned sunny, just as he'd foretold. For the first time since we'd entered the woods, I felt a thrill of excitement — which quickly turned to impatience.

"Are we there yet?" I teased, pretending to scowl.

"Nearly." He smiled at the change in my mood. "Do you see the brightness ahead?"

I could definitely see a lightening in the trees ahead, a glow that was yellow instead of green. I picked up the pace, my eagerness growing with every step. He let me lead now, following noiselessly.

I reached the edge of the pool of light and stepped through the last fringe of ferns into the loveliest place I had ever seen. The meadow was small, perfectly round, and filled with wildflowers — violet, yellow, and soft white. Somewhere nearby, I could hear the bubbling music of a stream. The sun was directly overhead, filling the circle with a haze of buttery sunshine. I walked slowly, awestruck, through the soft grass, swaying flowers, and warm, gilded air. I halfway turned, wanting to share this with him, but he wasn't behind me where I thought he'd be. I spun around, searching for him with sudden alarm. Finally I spotted him, still under the dense shade of the canopy at the edge of the hollow, watching me with cautious eyes. Only then did I remember what the beauty of the meadow had driven from my mind — the enigma of Blaine and the sun, which he'd promised to illustrate for me today.

I took a step back toward him, my eyes alight with curiosity. His eyes were wary, reluctant. I smiled encouragingly and beckoned to him with my hand, taking another step back to him. He held up a hand in warning, and I hesitated, rocking back onto my heels.

Blaine seemed to take a deep breath, and then he stepped out into the bright glow of the midday sun.

~.~


	14. Chapter 13: Confessions

Chapter Thirteen **– Confessions**

I stood in the meadow feeling nothing but absolute wonder. It was abundant with sweet-smelling flowers and heavenly sunlight and I took it all in as I waited silently, evening my breath, trying not to think of how much the scene was too eerily accurate to the one I had imagined of my coveted field of lilacs, (a place I had conjured in my head, where I'd dreamt I'd lose my virginity to a boy I loved. Bucket List; Number Fifty-Five).

I shuddered, despite the meadow's sunlit warmth, glad that Blaine could not read my thoughts. I was also overwhelmed that this meadow here was a lot better than my lilac fantasies and ohmygod what I would do if they come true.

I stood with my back toward him as he waited shirtless in the shadow of the trees. He instructed me to enjoy the serenity of the moment while he timed out to mentally prepare himself for what he was about to show me. No sooner had I lost myself, enjoying the rare Washington sunlight, and the perfumed flowers, that I felt him behind me as his fingers traced my shoulders, welcomed iciness seeping through the fabric of my shirt.

"Close your eyes for me, Kurt."

I sighed and did so, my carefully balanced breathing completely coming undone as I felt him undoing the top few buttons of my own shirt. He giggled quietly into the crook of my neck, "So many layers…" he whispered, leaving my shirt half unbuttoned, "It's time. Keep your eyes closed, count to three and then turn around…"

He removed his touch and I did as he said, turning around so slowly I barely felt myself move. I counted to three, afraid I counted too fast, and then counted to six instead just in case I had been.

I fluttered my eyes open. My jaw dropped.

Blaine in the sunlight was shocking. I realized two things in that moment: that this was something I would never get used to no matter how long I stared at him and that he was also the most devastatingly beautiful human being I had ever , or would ever, lay eyes on. He was staring at me intently but there was no smile on his face. He looked pained.

"Kurt, please say something. I'm not used to not knowing what one is thinking… If this is too much, I understand, please just tell me."

"I… I… I," was all I managed to splutter out, unable to coherently string anything together. He was glowing like an angel. It seemed as if diamonds were embedded in his now snow white translucent skin. The bluish outlines of his veins were now more prominent than ever.

"I knew it," he said sadly, when I still could not find any words; "You think I'm a monster."

The assumption immediately re-induced my forgotten speech. "What?" I said immediately shaking my head, mouth still open, "You couldn't be more further from the truth. You're… beautiful. Actually, beautiful doesn't even cut it. I don't think there's a word that exists for how incredibly overwhelmed I am by you right now."

"Hmm," he calculated, his eyes wandering away from mine in preference of the flowers surrounding us. "Would you do me the pleasure of also removing your shirt? I don't think I've ever felt more self-conscious."

I snorted. "Honestly…" I said, removing the last few closed buttons. "You have nothing to be self-conscious about."

A smirk finally evolved on his features making his angelic glowing appearance even more spell-bounding and radiant. His lips were moving so fast, it was like they were trembling. As a result, I couldn't quite make out what he was saying as he stared at me but I caught the words, "perfect," and "amazing," and "gorgeous," and I felt my ears go beet red.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he pressed.

"That the only thing that could top this moment is if we could go back to the fifties and watch Judy Garland perform live in concert."

That seemed to keep the smile on his face, "Will you lie with me, Kurt?"

"…Okay."

His back hit the grass before mine but that was owing to the fact that I preferred to sit propped up my elbows and stare at him as we fell into an easy conversation. My fingers trembled as I traced the contours of his chest and I knew he could feel it.

"Does this bother you at all?" I asked quietly.

"No," he answered immediately, "You can't imagine how it feels. I like this. It's so easy to be myself around you." His eyes which had been closed for some time now, shot open. "I have a confession to make."

"Yes?" I asked softly when he took too long a pause.

"I know you insisted that I stop but I might have, maybe, possibly… okay. I tuned in to Rachel's thoughts again."

"Blaine!" I said chastised; I was immediately annoyed. I sat upright and crossed my arms but he sat upright too and scooted closer over to me.

"Please…" he asked quietly holding out his hand. I didn't look at him and interlaced our fingers.

"This doesn't make me any less annoyed at you!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I can explain."

"Enlighten me." I said through pursed lips, still very much annoyed.

He sighed. "I… I was afraid."

Wait, what? Had I heard that correctly? This was so not the answer I had been expecting. "Afraid?" I repeated, "Afraid of what?"

"Afraid that I had pressured you into doing something you weren't ready for."

I was still confused, "Like what?"

His eyes shot down, staring intently at the grass. I didn't want to push him but I was getting impatient, "Blaine, you promised to explain. I'm listening, okay? Just tell me."

"In the car…" Blaine whispered, "You'd never even kissed anyone before me and…" he trailed off, turning his head completely away from mine altogether. I broke our hands apart and moved to touch his face bringing it closer to mine, forcing him to look at me.

"Blaine. Don't be silly. You didn't force me to do anything I wasn't ready for. So what if Rachel thought it was too fast? You should have been listening in on Lauren instead. Our relationship is _our_ relationship. Nobody can define how fast we're going except us. I… I _liked_ what happened. I was getting pretty sick of my hand to tell you the truth."

I blushed a deep red, unsure where my hidden confidence had suddenly surfaced from. At least he hadn't stopped looking at me. "Has Burt ever spoken to you about any of this stuff?"

My eyes grew wide, "No, no, no absolutely not. That is one conversation I never want to have ever."

"But it's a conversation you're going to have to have with someone eventually. And… I might know the mechanics of everything Kurt but I'm never going to feel comfortable unless you are."

"To be honest, I'm kinda feeling a little uncomfortable now."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not… you. It's the fact that I suddenly have the urge to shove my fingers in my ears and sing. Very loudly."

"Well, that I could live with because you have an amazing voice. But I am sorry this makes you uncomfortable. It's just… if we're going to continue to be intimate like _that_, I want us to be able to talk about it."

I mentally groaned. He may not have been able to read my thoughts but he could clearly sense I was unsettled. I decided to explain myself. I guess I owed him that much. "I don't really like _talking_ about it. It gives me all sort of anxious thoughts and my brain turns into this nasty web of fear and nerves. You see, I'm what I like to refer to myself as a silly romantic. And right now, in this meadow, with you yes I may feel uncomfortable _talking_ but there's a bigger urge inside me that just wants to tackle you to the ground and attach my lips to yours until I can't breathe anymore."

Oh shit.

I said that out loud, didn't I?

But Blaine was grinning. He found the whole thing rather amusing. I wasn't sure how I felt about that. "As tempting as that is, I think there's something you should know first before you make up your mind. Where do I start? Okay. In a relationship, or to be more specific, in a relationship with two men romantically involved, there are going to be a _lot_ of urges. It's natural and it feels really nice and there's nothing wrong with that but there presents a bit of a problem when the man you're romantically linked to is a vampire."

I rolled my eyes, "I think we've made it clear that your whole being a vampire thing is not a problem for me."

"I know," Blaine nodded, "And that's why it is a problem. Because I am not completely a man. And the instincts of an animal, which I am in part, means that my urges are a lot more stronger than you would normally ever have to deal with."

I raised an eyebrow. "I think I'll take my chances. Besides your urges won't stand a chance when I have as much sexual appeal as a baby penguin."

Blaine shrugged, "Well then, you're one very sexy penguin. Which makes me… what?" He lay back down against the grass again and I joined him, my head resting on his chest. A bird flew over us in the sky and I knew I had my answer.

"Okay, I don't care how cliché this is but… a bat."

"A bat? Really? You know that's just a myth, right?"

"Yes. But I also know that you've swooped down and saved me way more times than I care to count. And I'm not just talking about the times you physically saved me. After my Mom died in Lima, that was it for me. I had to be strong for Burt and I came to Forks but the emptiness was too overbearing. At least not until I met you. And since we're on the topic of confessions, I have something to admit to being afraid of too."

Blaine raised his hands above my hands stroking his fingers through my hair, "I don't want you to be afraid."

"Blaine," I said resigned, "The only thing I'm afraid of is losing you. I'm afraid that I like staying with you a lot more than I should."

"Yes," he said slowly, "It's really not in your best interests to be with me. I should have left long ago." He sighed, "I should leave now. But I don't know if I can."

"I don't want you to leave," I mumbled pathetically.

"Well it's a good thing I'm being selfish then. Because I'm afraid I like staying with you a lot more than _I_ should."

"So we're at a mutual understanding, then?" I asked, silently hopeful.

"Not entirely, no. It's not only your company I crave. Never forget that."

"I have sexual urges around you too, Blaine. I thought we established that."

"We did. But I wasn't talking about that either." Our eyes were locked on one another. When he dropped his gaze to stare down at my throat, I finally understood. He was talking about his diet of course, but then he said something that confused me.

"I am more dangerous to you than I am to anyone else."

"What do you mean?" I asked, "Don't all humans have the same blood? I know there are different types and stuff but it's all the same right?"

"Essentially, yes. But…. To a vampire, every person smells different, has a different essence. If you locked an alcoholic in a room full of stale beer, he'd gladly drink it. But he could resist, if he wished to, if he were a recovering alcoholic. Now let's say you placed in that room a glass of hundred-year-old brandy, the rarest, finest cognac — and filled the room with its warm aroma — how do you think he would fare then?" We sat silently, looking into each other's eyes, trying to read each other's thoughts. He broke the silence first. "Maybe that's not the right comparison. Maybe it would be too easy to turn down the brandy. Perhaps I should have made our alcoholic a heroin addict instead."

"So what you're saying is… I'm your brand of heroin?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled swiftly, seeming to appreciate my effort. "Yes, you are exactly my brand of heroin."

"I should introduce you to Lord Tubbington then. Britt's convinced he's trying to kick off an ecstasy addiction."

"Ah yes. I see the two of us venturing to Addicts Anonymous meetings together, don't you? We'd become the finest of friends, I'd imagine."

We both laughed then, enjoying the innocence of the moment when it suddenly occurred to me. "Does it happen often?" I asked. "Your craving for heroin?"

He looked across the treetops, thinking through his response. "I spoke to my brothers about it." He still stared into the distance. "To Sam, every one of you is much the same. He's the most recent to join our family. It's a struggle for him to abstain at all. He hasn't had time to grow sensitive to the differences in smell, in flavor." He glanced swiftly at me, his expression apologetic. "Sorry," he said.

"I don't mind. Please don't worry about offending me, or frightening me, or whichever. That's the way you think. I can understand, or I can try to at least. Just explain however you can."

He took a deep breath and gazed at the sky again. "So Sam wasn't sure if he'd ever come across someone who was as" — he hesitated, looking for the right word — "_appealing_ as you are to me. Which makes me think not. Puck has been on the wagon longer, so to speak, and he understood what I meant. He says twice, for him, once stronger than the other."

"And for you?"

"Never."

The word hung there for a moment in the warm breeze.

"What did Puck do?" I asked to break the silence.

It was the wrong question to ask. His face grew dark, his hand clenched into a fist inside mine. He looked away. I waited, but he wasn't going to answer.

"I guess I know," I finally said. "Even the strongest of us fall off the wagon, don't we?"

He lifted his eyes; his expression was wistful, pleading.

"Would you ever want me to… I don't know… give you permission to, you know, if it got really hard to resist?" I couldn't believe what I was suggesting but I'd already made up my mind a long time ago that I would do anything for Blaine.

"No, no!" He was instantly contrite. "Of course there's always hope! I mean, of course I won't…" He left the sentence hanging. His eyes burned into mine. "It's different for us, for you and me, I mean. Puck… these were strangers he happened across. And before he met Quinn, Puck was never able to resist sex with multiple women, let alone draining their blood. It was a long time ago, and he wasn't as… practiced, as careful, as he is now. Obviously, he doesn't pine for other women now, being partnered to Quinn, but you can see what I mean now when I say we should be talking about… _that_."

He fell silent and watched me intently as I thought it through. "So if we'd met as strangers… oh, in a dark alley or something…" I trailed off.

"It took everything I had not to jump up in the middle of that class full of children and —" He stopped abruptly, looking away. "When you walked past me, I could have ruined everything Will has built for us, right then and there. If I hadn't been denying my thirst for the last, well, too many years, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself." He paused, scowling at the trees. He glanced at me grimly, both of us remembering. "You must have thought I was possessed."

"No. But I do remember thinking that I couldn't understand why you could hate me so quickly…"

"To me, it was like you were some kind of angelic-faced demon, summoned straight from my own personal hell to ruin me. The fragrance coming off your skin… I thought it would make me deranged that first day. In that one hour, I thought of a hundred different ways to lure you from the room with me, to get you alone. And I fought them each back, thinking of my family, what it would do to them. I had to run out, to get away before I could speak the words that would make you follow…" He looked up then at my staggered expression as I tried to absorb his bitter memories. His golden eyes scorched from under his lashes, hypnotic and deadly. "You would have come," he promised.

I tried to speak calmly. "Without a doubt. I would have followed you."

"You _would_ have followed me," he agreed. "And I would have bent you over and taken you before devouring you dry." He frowned down at my hands, releasing me from the force of his stare. "And then, as I tried to rearrange my schedule in a pointless attempt to avoid you, you were there — in that close, warm little room, the scent was maddening. I so very nearly took you then. There was only one other frail human there — so easily I could have dealt with."

I shivered in the warm sun, seeing my memories anew through his eyes, only now grasping the danger. Poor Ms. Cope; I shivered again at how close I'd come to being inadvertently responsible for her death.

"But I resisted," Blaine continued. "I don't know how. I forced myself not to wait for you, not to follow you from the school. It was easier outside, when I couldn't smell you anymore, to think clearly, to make the right decision. I left the others near home — I was too ashamed to tell them how weak I was, they only knew something was very wrong — and then I went straight to Will, at the hospital, to tell him I was leaving." I stared in surprise, wanting to hear more.

"I traded cars with him — he had a full tank of gas and I didn't want to stop. I didn't dare to go home, to face Emma. She wouldn't have let me go without a scene. She would have tried to convince me that it wasn't necessary…" I couldn't make out the next part because he had spoken so very quietly but it sounded like he'd said that she would have given him one of her pamphlets.

"By the next morning I was in Alaska." He sounded ashamed, as if admitting a great cowardice. "I spent two days there, with some old acquaintances… but I was homesick. I hated knowing I'd upset Emma, and the rest of them, my adopted family. In the pure air of the mountains it was hard to believe you were so irresistible. I convinced myself it was weak to run away. I'd dealt with temptation before, not of this magnitude, not even close, but I was strong. Who were you, an insignificant little boy — he grinned suddenly as I raised my eyebrow at him — "to chase me from the place I wanted to be? So I came back…" He stared off into space.

I let him continue, saying nothing.

"I took precautions, hunting, feeding more than usual before seeing you again. I was sure that I was strong enough to treat you like any other human. I was arrogant about it. It was unquestionably a complication that I couldn't simply read your thoughts to know what your reaction was to me. I wasn't used to having to go to such circuitous measures, listening to your words in Rachel's mind… but her mind was focused entirely on herself and Finn and... And then I knew I couldn't know if you really meant what you said. It was all extremely irritating." He frowned at the memory. "I wanted you to forget my behavior that first day, if possible, so I tried to talk with you like I would with any person. I was eager actually, hoping to decipher some of your thoughts. But you were too interesting, I found myself caught up in your expressions… and every now and then you would stir the air with your hand or your hair, and the scent would stun me again… Of course, then you were nearly crushed to death in front of my eyes."

He paused and I took this as my opportunity to mumble my thoughts, "My own personal Batman."

He smiled, "Ah, you think that now but, later I thought of a perfectly good excuse for why I acted at that moment— because if I hadn't saved you, if your blood had been spilled there in front of me, I don't think I could have stopped myself from exposing our family for what we are. But I only thought of that excuse later. At the time, all I could think was, 'Not him. Not Kurt.'"

He closed his eyes, lost in his agonized confession. I listened, more eager than rational. Common sense told me I should be terrified. Instead, I was relieved to finally understand. And I was filled with compassion for his suffering, even now, as he confessed his craving to take my life.

His eyes flashed up to mine. "In the hospital, I was appalled. I couldn't believe I had put us in danger after all, put myself in your power — you of all people. As if I needed another motive to kill you." We both flinched as that word slipped out. "But it had the opposite effect," he continued quickly. "I fought with Quinn, Puck, and Sam when they suggested that now was the time… the worst fight we've ever had. Will sided with me, and Mercedes." He grimaced when he said her name. I couldn't imagine why. "Emma told me to do whatever I had to in order to stay." He shook his head indulgently.

"All that next day I eavesdropped on the minds of everyone you spoke to, shocked that you kept your word. I didn't understand you at all. But I knew that I couldn't become more involved with you. I did my very best to stay as far from you as possible. And every day the perfume of your skin, your breath, your hair… it hit me as hard as the very first day." He met my eyes again, and they were surprisingly tender.

"And for all that," he continued, "I'd have fared better if I had exposed us all at that first moment, than if now, here — with no witnesses and nothing to stop me — I were to hurt you."

I was human enough to have to ask. "Why?"

"Kurt." He pronounced my name carefully, and then playfully ruffled my hair with his free hand. A shock ran through my body at his casual touch. "Kurt, I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you. You don't know how it's tortured me." He looked down, ashamed again. "The thought of you, still, white, cold… to never see you blush scarlet again, to never see that flash of intuition in your eyes when you see through my pretenses… it would be unendurable." He lifted his glorious, agonized eyes to mine. "You are the most important thing to me now. The most important thing to me ever."

My head was spinning at the rapid change in direction our conversation had taken. From the cheerful topic of my impending demise, we were suddenly declaring ourselves. He waited, and even though I looked down to study our hands between us, I knew his golden eyes were on me. "You already know how I feel, of course," I finally said. "I'm here… which, roughly translated, means I would rather die than stay away from you." I frowned. "I'm an idiot."

"You are an idiot," he agreed with a laugh. Our eyes met, and I laughed, too. We laughed together at the idiocy and sheer impossibility of such a moment.

"But I'm also your baby penguin." I admitted.

"And so Batman fell in love with a penguin…" he murmured. I looked away, hiding my eyes as I thrilled at his mention of the 'L' word.

"What a stupid penguin," I sighed.

"What a stupid metaphor." He laughed, loud and resonating into the shadowy forest. I wondered where his thoughts had taken him.

"How do I make this easier for you?" I wondered out loud.

"What do you mean?"

"I want to help, if I can, to not make this harder for you."

He shifted uneasily. I don't think there's anything you can do. You can't help the smell of your throat." He stopped short, looking to see if he'd upset me.

"Okay, then," I said flippantly, trying to alleviate the suddenly tense atmosphere. I tucked my chin. "No throat exposure." It worked; he laughed. "No, really," I pressed, "This is good. I have a guilt free excuse to make good use of my Chanel scarf collection."

He raised his free hand and placed it gently on the side of my neck. I sat very still, the chill of his touch a natural warning — a warning telling me to be terrified. But there was no feeling of fear in me. There were, however, other feelings… My blood was racing, and I wished I could slow it, sensing that this must make everything so much more difficult — the thudding of my pulse in my veins. Surely he could hear it.

"The blush on your cheeks is lovely," he murmured. He gently freed his other hand. My hands fell limply into my lap. Softly he brushed my cheek, and then held my face between his marble hands.

"Be very still," he whispered, as if I wasn't already frozen.

Slowly, never moving his eyes from mine, he leaned toward me. Then abruptly, but very gently, he rested his cold lips against the hollow at the base of my throat. I was quite unable to move, even if I'd wanted to. I listened to the sound of his even breathing, watching the sun and wind play in his curly hair, more human than any other part of him. With deliberate slowness, his hands slid down the sides of my neck. I shivered, and I heard him catch his breath. But his hands didn't pause as they softly moved to my shoulders, and then stopped. His face drifted to the side, his nose skimming across my collarbone. He came to rest with the side of his face pressed tenderly against my chest.

Listening to my heart.

"Ah," he sighed. "Still the most beautiful sound in the world."

I don't know how long we sat without moving. It could have been hours. Eventually the throb of my pulse quieted, but he didn't move or speak again as he held me. I knew at any moment it could be too much, and my life could end — so quickly that I might not even notice. And I couldn't make myself be afraid. I couldn't think of anything, except that he was touching me. He slowly raised his head again, pressing light kisses to my chest, trailing slowly, snail-paced, down to the small bulge I had managed to raise in my pants.

"I'm sorry!" I said quickly, abashed at my sudden emotions. I turned on my side but no sooner had I moved that I felt him cuddle up beside me in the grass. He held me tightly pressing into me even more so and tilted his hips just at an angle that meant his length was pressed up against me.

"Don't apologize," he whispered, breathing into my ear, as I remained in his grasp.

And then, too soon, he released me. I turned on my other side now facing him. His eyes were peaceful.

"See," he mocked. "I can control both my vampiric urges and my sexual desires."

"Maybe," I muttered, "But I can't control my teenage ones."

And then, not knowing what overcame me, I cradled his face and pressed my lips against his. For just a moment, I was anticipating his rejection but quite the contrary, Blaine deepened the kiss as I gave into my urges sucking his bottom lip as I moaned at his touch and the vanilla flavor of his taste.

"Here," I encouraged taking his hand and placing it just below the belt of my pants. "Do you feel how warm it is?" He nodded as I in turn pressed kisses to his throat. "Don't move," I whispered, as I hovered over on top of him, my knees on either side of his legs.

No one could be still like Blaine. He closed his eyes and became as immobile as stone, a carving under me. I moved even more slowly, careful not to make one unexpected move. I caressed his cheek, delicately stroked his eyelid, the purple shadow in the hollow under his eye. I traced the shape of his perfect nose, and then, so carefully, his flawless lips. His lips parted under my hand, and I could feel his cool breath on my fingertips. I leaned in, inhaling the scent of him, pressing my lips to his again and resulting in our chest to chest contact. I could feel the need build up in my erection now and I slowly pressed my length against his.

He opened his eyes, and they were hungry. Not in a way to make me fear, but rather to tighten the muscles in the pit of my stomach and send my pulse hammering through my veins again. I was really hard now.

"I wish," he whispered through kisses, through his hands roaming my hair and down my back, "I wish you could feel the… complexity… the confusion… I feel. That you could understand." He lowered his hands to my ass, and then firmly squeezed my cheeks.

"Tell me," I breathed. I grinded down on him again, causing him to moan.

"I don't think I can," — he half-smiled, trying his best not to thrust his hips up at me — "as you are not addicted to any illegal substances, you probably can't empathize completely. But…" His fingers touched my lips lightly, making me shiver again. There are other hungers. Hungers I don't even understand, that are foreign to me." He squeezed my ass again and I moaned even lighter sucking his neck and rubbing our lengths even more firmly pressed against each other now.

"I may understand that better than you think." I told him, and his mouth parted slightly open as I insinuated exactly what I meant.

"I'm not used to feeling so human," he panted. "Is it always like this?"

"For me?" I paused. "No, never. Never before this." He clad his iron strength around me and flipped us over so that he was hovering above me.

"I don't know how to be close to you," he admitted, bringing his lips to my neck now, pressing lighter than ever before. "I don't know if I can," he whispered. He leaned forward very slowly, looking for any signs of resistance in my eyes. I placed my hands through his hair and kissed him again. We stayed like that, our tongues dancing, for a long time.

I finally broke for air. "What we're doing now," I sighed, closing my eyes. "This is enough."

In a very human gesture, he put his arms around me and pressed his face against my hair. "You want more." He said plainly. "I don't know if I'm any good."

"You're better at this than you give yourself credit for," I noted. "And you were plenty good last time."

"Kurt…" he said, "I… I have human instincts — they may be buried deep, but they're there. But I still need instruction… Tell me what you need me to do."

We lay like that for another immeasurable moment; I wondered if I could be so confident.

"Use your instincts…" I whispered.

He nodded once. And that was it. Slowly, very slowly, he raised his head and lowered himself down, wrapping his fingers around the buckle of my pants.

"Are you sure?" he asked without needing to.

"Actually… wait. We did this last time. I… I want to… try it the other way around."

"Kurt?"

I pressed my hands against his chest, gesturing to where he was before. "Lay down for me again," I encouraged.

"Okay."

With as much dexterity as I could have mustered, and incessantly hoping that I would not embarrass myself, I loosened his belt, tossing the unwanted thing aside and lowering his pants. He breathed a sigh of relief at the lessened pressure on his erection and in that moment an overwhelming desire took over me seeing him so ready for me.

"If I'm going to lie here naked," he panted through even more urgent kisses now, "It's only fair that you remove your clothes too."

"I think… I think I can beseech that request…" I clambered off him and slowly stood, wanting to rip all my clothes off but instead taking my time, stripping each piece of clothing gently, watching in favor as his eyes roamed my body favorably as each piece of clothing was removed.

"Kurt…" he begged, "…_Please_."

When I was satisfied I had teased him enough, I dropped to my knees and ghosted my breath against his penis. Unable to contain myself I began stroking him with my hand simultaneously as I began to lick a wet trail on his cock from base to tip. He began to shake under me. The freedom that we had out here in the meadow was a lot more welcoming than the restraints of the car we had been faced with when we had first surrendered to intimacy.

I had never had to give a blowjob before, never even kissed a guy till I met Blaine, never even told anyone I was gay till I had come to Forks, but now that Blaine's cock was in my mouth there was only one thing to be said.

"Guess I can empathize with you now. Looks like I've found my addiction."

I experimentally bopped the tip with my lips, careful not to graze my teeth on him, (his iron stamina be damned I knew teeth were not an option), before I sank further and further down. I had a good part of it in my mouth and now that I had crossed that barrier I couldn't believe I'd never done it before.

"Kurt!" Blaine yelled out just as the tip of his cock hit the back of my throat and then I was suddenly filled with his come, swallowing all of it, vaguely remember reading in _Cosmopolitan_ that one should never swallow a guy's come in the first go but this was _so_ not the time to be thinking that. Blaine was spent when I was done, his breathing erratic and short. "C'mere," he mumbled requesting that I be closer to him. I wiggled closer to his face and he met me with a long passionate kiss, eager to taste himself from within the confines of my mouth.

Slowly, our lips never parting, he turned me on my side and I let out a hiss as my own breathing hitched when he finally took care of me, palming me off with his skilled hand, rubbing the pre-come that was dripping from my own cock over the slit and rubbing up and down faster than I would have thought anyone capable. The cool on warm sensations were all familiar now and the smell of the flowers and the glow of the sunlight were all perfect but it was Blaine's diamond set incandescent features, that look of lust and want in golden eyes, that had me teetering over the edge and coming so hard, I'm pretty sure I blacked out for a split second before my head collapsed onto his chest and I surrendered to whatever power overtook me.

~.~

"Kurt? C'mon baby, it's time to wake up. It'll be dark soon…"

I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay in the meadow with Blaine forever. But I could see the light was fading, the shadows of the forest beginning to touch us, and I sighed. He held my shoulders and I looked into his face. "Can I show you something?" he asked, sudden excitement flaring in his eyes.

"Show me what?"

"I'll show you how I travel in the forest." He saw my expression. "Don't worry, you'll be very safe, and we'll get to your truck much faster." His mouth twitched up into that crooked smile so beautiful my heart nearly stopped.

"Will you turn into a bat?" I asked teasingly.

He laughed, louder than I'd ever heard. "Come on, climb on my back." I waited to see if he was kidding, but, apparently, he meant it. He smiled as he read my hesitation, and reached for me. My heart reacted; even though he couldn't hear my thoughts, my pulse always gave me away. He then proceeded to sling me onto his back, with very little effort on my part, besides, when in place, clamping my legs and arms so tightly around him that it would choke a normal person. It was like clinging to a stone.

"I'm a bit heavier than your average backpack," I warned.

"Hah!" he snorted. I could almost hear his eyes rolling. I'd never seen him in such high spirits before. He startled me, suddenly grabbing my hand, pressing my palm to his lips and offering one small kiss to the back of my palm.

And then he was running.

He streaked through the dark, thick underbrush of the forest like a bullet, like a ghost. There was no sound, no evidence that his feet touched the earth. His breathing never changed, never indicated any effort. But the trees flew by at deadly speeds, always missing us by inches.

I was too terrified to close my eyes, though the cool forest air whipped against my face and burned them. I felt as if I were stupidly sticking my head out the window of an airplane in flight. And, for the first time in my life, I felt the dizzy faintness of motion sickness.

Then it was over. We'd hiked hours this morning to reach Blaine's meadow, and now, in a matter of minutes, we were back to the truck.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" His voice was high, excited.

He stood motionless, waiting for me to climb down. I tried, but my muscles wouldn't respond. My arms and legs stayed locked around him while my head spun uncomfortably.

"Kurt?" he asked, anxious now.

"Wow," I gasped.

He chuckled quietly to himself but I still couldn't move.

"I think I need help," I admitted. He laughed again, and gently unloosened my stranglehold on his neck. There was no resisting the iron strength of his hands. Then he pulled me around to face him, cradling me in his arms like a small child. He held me for a moment, and then carefully placed me on the springy ferns.

"How do you feel?" he asked, still smiling.

"Well… it was very interesting."

"Hah! You're as white as a ghost — no, you're as white as me!"

"I think I should have closed my eyes."

"Remember that next time."

"Next time!" I groaned.

He laughed, his mood still radiant.

"Show-off," I muttered.

"Open your eyes, Kurt," he said quietly.

And he was right there, his face so close to mine. His beauty stunned my mind — it was too much, an excess I couldn't grow accustomed to.

"I was thinking, while I was running…" He paused.

"About not hitting the trees, I hope."

He chuckled. "Running is second nature to me; it's not something I have to think about."

"Show-off," I muttered again.

He smiled. "So I was saying," he continued, "I was thinking, while I was running… of how much I loved you."

And he took my face in his hands again. I couldn't breathe. He hesitated — not in the normal way, the human way. Blaine hesitated to test himself, to see if this was safe, to make sure he was still in control of his urges. And then his cold, marble lips pressed very softly against mine.

He held out his hand to me. "Are you still faint from the run? Or was it my kissing expertise?" How lighthearted, how human he seemed as he laughed now, his seraphic face untroubled. He was a different Blaine than the one I had known. And I was thinking of how much I loved him too.

"I can't be sure, I'm still woozy," I managed to respond. "I think it's some of both, though."

"Maybe you should let me drive."

"Are you insane?" I protested.

"I can drive better than you on your best day," he teased. "You have much slower reflexes."

"I'm sure that's true, but I don't think my nerves, or my truck, could take it."

"Some trust, please, Kurt." My hand was in my pocket, curled tightly around the key. I pursed my lips, deliberated, and then shook my head with a tight grin. "Nope. Not a chance." He raised his eyebrows in disbelief. I started to step around him, heading for the driver's side. He might have let me pass if I hadn't wobbled slightly. Then again, he might not have. His arm created an inescapable snare around my waist.

"Kurt, I've already expended a great deal of personal effort at this point to keep you alive. I'm not about to let you behind the wheel of a vehicle when you can't even walk straight. Besides, it would be reckless to let you drive drunk," he finished with a chuckle. I could smell the unbearably sweet fragrance coming off his chest.

"Drunk?" I objected.

"You're intoxicated by my very presence." He was grinning and using that playful smirk again.

"I can't argue with that," I sighed. There was no way around it; I couldn't resist him in anything. I held the key high and dropped it, watching his hand flash like lightning to catch it soundlessly. "Take it easy — my truck is a senior citizen."

"Very sensible," he approved.

"And are you not affected at all?" I asked, irked. "By my presence?"

Again his mobile features transformed, his expression became soft, warm.

He didn't answer at first; he simply bent his face to mine, and brushed his lips slowly along my jaw, from my ear to my chin, back and forth. I trembled.

"Regardless," he finally murmured, "I have better reflexes."

~.~

**A/N: **I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to update! I've had heaps of uni assessments due and still have a lot of work to do for uni. The only break I've had from it was to watch ep15 _Big Brother_. That episode plus all your glowing reviews is what has enabled me to get this posted! So keep them coming and I'll do my best to have another chapter out soon! Thank you so much for your support!


	15. Chapter 14, Part One: Mind Over Matter

**A/N: I am again, very sorry for the wait for this update, but as I will be starting a new job, I have worked out a way that will enable me to update a lot faster! Yay! I also cut this chapter in half from the original novel because there was A LOT of dialogue in this, and it concerned a lot of the Glee Cullen's histories, which are obviously different from the Twilight Cullens. I also cut this chapter in half because that will also enable faster chapters and somehow I don't think you guys will mind so much!**

**Just very quickly… for those of you waiting for an update on _The Stranger's Son_ (I haven't abandoned that either) but I'm having a bad case of writer's block… I know what's going to happen but I can't decide if the person at the end of the last chapter is Alex or Blaine or… someone else… So I'm really sorry! But it's given me more time to focus on Klainelight! I know this chapter was short but you've been waiting for aaaagges and I promise you the next one won't be as far off!**

**paperstylehearts x**

Chapter Fourteen **– Mind over Matter**

**Part One**

On the way home that evening, our hands linked together while he one-handedly steered. Blaine had turned the radio to a station I wouldn't be caught dead admitting I listened to.

"I didn't peg you as a Katy Perry fan."

He smiled, "I'm sorry, I'll change the station to something more… eclectic."

_Ecletic._ Who even used that word anymore? I loved Blaine's dapperism.

A few minutes later he had started humming along to a fifties song. I was surprised that he knew every line – and that he thought this was more _eclectic._

"You like fifties music?" I asked.

"Music in the fifties was good," he told me, "But it was much better in the seventies!" He closed his eyes, for a second, thinking back to his favorite tune and broke into a smile. "Mm, God, Roxy music makes me want to build a time machine just so I can go back in the seventies and give Bryan Ferry a high five." It was clear by the expression on his face that the thought was making him giddy. I decided I liked goofy Blaine. It was really cute.

"_Love is a drug…_" he sang.

"So Ferry fan… are you ever going to tell me how old you are?" I asked this hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt his singing even if it was to Bryan Ferry.

"Does it matter?" His smile, to my relief, remained.

"No, but I still wonder… Nothing keeps you up at night like wondering how old your gay vampire boyfriend is."

Blaine sighed, "I know it's silly but… I'm worried my age might upset you."

"Try me," I said.

He hesitated - but then looked into my eyes, seeming to forget the road completely for a time. Whatever he saw there must have encouraged him. He looked into the sun — the light of the setting orb glittered off his skin in ruby-tinged sparkles — and spoke.

"I was born on the fifth of February in sunny California. The year was… 1901." He paused and glanced at me from the corner of his eyes. My face was carefully unsurprised, patient for the rest.

"_Soo_ old Blaine. How is it that you walk without a walking stick?"

"Very funny, Kurt," he answered but he also seem relieved that I seemed to accept his age and continued. "Will found me in a hospital in San Francisco the summer of 1918. I was seventeen, and dying from severe head injuries." He heard my intake of breath, though it was barely audible to my own ears. He looked down into my eyes again.

"Before you ask – I don't remember it well — it was a very long time ago, and human memories fade." He was lost in his thoughts for a short time before he went on. "I do remember how it felt though, when Will saved me. That memory – not so easy to forget, unfortunately."

"What about your parents?"

"They had left indefinitely to New York on business and at seventeen I was expected to establish my own life as a young man in society without them." He briefly paused. "I was alone when I died. That was why Will chose me. Without anyone to identify my body, no one would ever realize I was gone."

"And since you remember it… How exactly did he… save you?" A few seconds passed before he answered. He seemed to choose his words carefully.

"Well the first thing he had to save was my hair. Took a lot of gel and we used raw egg back in the days and –"

"_Blaine_!"

Okay, so maybe goofy Blaine was a little frustrating.

"Fine! Well, I'm not going to lie to you. It was difficult. It's incredibly difficult to have that much restraint to not completely dry someone when you start but Will was one of the few. He has always been the most humane, the most compassionate of us. I don't think there is another vampire who is quite like him at all."

He paused, seemingly trapped in a moment of reminiscence. "For me, it was merely very, very painful. I was already in pain from my previous injuries and it was like… like someone had lit a fire inside my body or poured acid all over my skin. It was the worst pain imaginable."

I gripped his hand gently; I could tell from the movement of his lips that Blaine was finding this incredibly hard to talk about and was not obviously something that he brought up often.

His soft voice interrupted my thoughts. "I don't blame Will. He acted from loneliness. That's usually the first reason behind the choice. I was the first Will ever decided to call family, though he found Emma soon after. She was left for dead after shock treatments for her disability - ordered by her parents might I add - had gone disastrously wrong. The coroner ruled her as dead, but when Will found her, somehow, her heart was still beating."

"So you must be dying, then, to become…" We never said the word, and I couldn't frame it now.

"No, that's just Will. He would never do that to someone who had another choice." The respect in his voice was profound whenever he spoke of his mentor. "It is easier he says, though," he continued, "if the blood is weak." He looked at the now-dark road.

"And Puck and Quinn?"

"Will brought Quinn to our family next. I didn't realize till much later that he was hoping we would fall in love — he was always careful with his thoughts around me."

"He _didn't_ know that you were gay?"

He smiled. "With the risk of sounding too much like Hagrid, 'they were dark times, Harry'. A lot of homosexuals stayed in the closet so to speak. And as you can imagine, with no information available and no one to ask questions to, I was still trying to discover what I was on my own. It meant I had to discover what all these feelings I had really meant, all the while trying to figure out what the hell was going on inside me too. It wasn't until the sixties that I realized that there was nothing wrong with me, and so I officially came out, but then of course it was only to my family. It was still very difficult to lead an open homosexual lifestyle."

"It took you _sixty_ years to realize you were gay?"

At this Blaine chuckled, "I hope you know your mathematical skills will never be award winning. It was something I always knew. Well, I always knew I was attracted to men. It just took till the sixties to realize why that was, but like I said, even during those times, you kept your mouth shut about these things. Will and Emma were very patient and understanding about it, so was Quinn. But she was never more than a sister to me. It took her two years to find Puck. She was hunting and she saved him from, well just between you and me, a prostitute trying to maul his eyes out with her bare hands. He had been shot, God knows how, and was bleeding profusely. To this day, I have no idea why she would choose to save someone who'd been involved with such drama, but, I have come to love Puck very much and it's my belief that they had met briefly for some time before she saved him. I'm only now beginning to realize how difficult for her that must have been."

"But she made it," I encouraged, looking away from the unbearable beauty o f his eyes.

"Yes," he murmured. "She saw something in his face that made her strong enough. And they've been together ever since. Sometimes they live separately from us, as a married couple. But the younger we pretend to be, the longer we can stay in any given place. Forks seemed perfect, so we all enrolled in high school."

He laughed. "I suppose we'll have to go to their wedding in a few years, again…. But I don't suppose that's a problem. I'd love to be able to take you along, I'm sure you'll love to be involved in all the planning behind it." He paused, "I suppose you now also want to know about Mercedes and Sam?"

I nodded, very much interested. "Looks like you're getting better at the whole reading my thoughts thing."

"Not quite," he chuckled. "Mercedes and Sam are two very rare creatures. They both developed a conscience, as we refer to it, with no outside guidance. Sam belonged to another vampire family, a very different kind of family. He became depressed, and he wandered on his own. Mercedes found him. Like me, she has certain gifts above and beyond the norm for our kind."

"Really?" I interrupted, fascinated. "But you said you were the only one who could hear people's thoughts?"

"That's true. She knows other things though. She sees things — things that might happen, things that are coming. But it's very subjective. The future isn't set in stone. Things change."

His jaw set when he said that, and his eyes darted to my face and away so quickly that I wasn't sure if I only imagined it. Blaine's speed at such things was something I doubt I'd ever get used to.

The geek in me was forced to ask, "So what kinds of things does she see?"

"Well, she saw Sam and knew that he was looking for her before he even knew it himself. She saw Will and our family, and they came together to find us. She's most sensitive to non-humans. She always sees, for example, when another group of our kind is coming near. And any threat they may pose."

"Are there a lot of… vampires out there?" I was surprised. How many of them could be walking among us undetected? The thought was kinda cool.

"No, not many. But most won't settle in any one place. Only those like us, who've given up hunting people, can live together with humans for any length of time. We've only found one other family like ours, in a small village in Alaska. We lived together for a time, but there were so many of us that we became too noticeable. Those of us who live - differently - tend to band together."

"And what about the ones who don't?" I felt myself shiver as I asked.

"I guess you could refer to them as Nomads, for the most part. We've all lived that way at times. It gets tedious, like anything else. But we run across the others now and then, because most of us prefer the North."

"Why is that?"

We were parked in front of my house now, and he'd turned off the truck. It was very quiet and dark; there was no moon. The porch light was off so I knew Burt and Carole weren't home yet.

"Let's just say this," Blaine continued, "Do you think I could walk down the street in the sunlight without causing traffic accidents? There's a reason why we chose the Olympic Peninsula, one of the most sunless places in the world. It's nice to be able to go outside in the day, though nothing will ever compare to my hometown of Cali. You wouldn't believe how tired you can get of nighttime in eighty-odd years."

"So that's where the legends came from!"

"Probably."

"And Mercedes came from another family, like Sam?"

"No, and that is a mystery. Mercedes doesn't remember her human life at all. And she doesn't know who created her. She awoke alone. Whoever made her walked away, and none of us understand why, or how, they could do that. If she hadn't had her special gift, if she hadn't seen Sam and Will and known that she would someday become one of us, she probably would have turned into a total savage."

There was so much to think through, so much I still wanted to ask. But, to my great embarrassment, my stomach growled. I'd been so intrigued I hadn't even noticed I was hungry. I realized now that I was ravenous.

"I'm sorry; I'm keeping you from dinner. I've never spent much time around anyone who eats food. I forget."

"I'm fine, really. I just want to stay with you." It was easier to say in the darkness, knowing as I spoke how my voice would betray me and my hopeless addiction to him.

"Do you mind if I come in?" he asked, hopping out of the car. "I wouldn't mind waiting to see Burt again."

"Sure! He probably wouldn't mind seeing you either." I couldn't picture it though, this godlike creature sitting in my father's shabby kitchen chair.

I heard his car door close quietly, and almost simultaneously he was outside my door, opening it for me.

"Very human," I complimented him. "Again, I attribute this dapperness to your Cary Grant skills, my love. I think it's time I organized another black and white movie marathon!"

**A/N: That's right, for those of you who picked up on it, I gave Blaine the same birthdays as D-Criss. Haha… I don't know if that's canon but seeing as Kurt and Chris share birthdays I thought it was only fitting :) And actually, I wrote that scene before we knew that so that's kinda cool.**

**Also… I'LL BE DOING A LOT OF FIC REC FROM NOW ON so please check out, "United States of Kurt," by my new friend CountingCrow16. It's about Kurt, something traumatic has happened to him in his childhood and somewhere along the line he's developed multiple personalities – Dissociative Identity Disorder – to cope. She updates REGULARLY and I am completely obsessed with the fic and have composed several pieces of fanart for it. (Available at paperstylehearts dot deviantart dot com if you so wish to check it out).**

**Lastly - please review! I guess I'm curious to see if anyone is still reading this anymore…? I'd also love to know what you think of the different histories the Glee Cullens have! And maybe your thoughts on how Blaine ended up with those head injuries…? **


	16. Chapter 14, Part Two: Mind over Matter

Chapter Fourteen **– Mind over Matter**

**Part Two**

**Note: Burt is still referred to as Burt Hummel as only Kurt changed his name to Swan as he explains to Blaine in an earlier chapter. Thank you.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Blaine walked beside me so quietly that I had to keep looking at him constantly to make sure he was still there. In the darkness he appeared different. His inhuman features still prominently stood out in contrast against his human ones, but glowing beside me in the moonlight he appeared much more of a man then I had ever seen him look.

When we got to the door, ever the gentleman, he immediately opened it for me.

"The door was unlocked?" I asked surprised. My shock however, was short-lived as a grin spread across his face, "No. I borrowed the key from under the pot plant."

I raised an eyebrow, "I don't recall telling you it was there," I huffed, "And even I know you don't have x-ray vision."

He shrugged, "Maybe I do."

"Are you sure you're a vampire and not one of the X-Men?"

"Again with the comic book theories…"

I rolled my eyes, "Very funny. Are you going to tell me how you figured it out or are we gonna stand out here for the rest of the evening?"

He answered my question with another. "What else is there to do at night?"

Confused, I let it go for a moment and went down the hall to the kitchen. He was there before me, needing no guide. He sat in the very chair I'd tried to picture him in. As he fumbled with the key in his hand, it finally hit me.

"You've been spying on me."

His eyes met mine immediately, "I've been getting a lot more sleep since I've met you. But sometimes, it doesn't come so easy."

I concentrated on getting my dinner, taking last night's lasagna from the fridge, placing a square on a plate, heating it in the microwave, while I poured some milk. The smell of the lasagna heating up filled the kitchen with the aroma of tomato and oregano courtesy of my excellent cooking skills. I didn't take my eyes from the plate of food as I spoke.

"How often?" I asked casually.

"Hmmm?" He sounded as if I had pulled him from some other train of thought.

I still didn't turn around. "How often do you come here? It isn't exactly a very human thing to do, you know."

He looked crestfallen. "No, you're right, it's not. I guess it is borderline _stalking_ really. But to answer your question - I come here almost every night. Although… I hardly think you can blame me. You're very interesting when you sleep." I raised an eyebrow as he spoke matter-of-factly. "You talk."

"…_What_?" I asked, heat flooding my face all the way to my hairline. It suddenly didn't matter that he couldn't read my thoughts because knowing he had heard me talk in my sleep felt invasive. I knew I did talk in my sleep, of course; Burt had that talk with me after Mom had died. I hadn't thought it was something I needed to worry about in Forks, though.

His expression shifted. "Are you angry with me?"

"No!" I said but it felt and sounded like I was. "It's just – this is _embarrassing_! I mean I knew it happened but to think you found out by stalking me, Blaine? Ugh. You need to start living in the twenty-first century. I'm crazy about you – but I'd like to know that I'm still entitled to some human privacy."

His eyes were downcast. "I'm sorry," he said and it was so sincere I felt my heart drop. "Please, don't be upset." Instinctively, I took his hands, choosing my words carefully. "Look… we'll find _another_ way to help you sleep. And if you're really sorry, I think I know how you can make it up to me."

"How?" he asked at once, immediately reaching my eyes with his gaze. His chained expression made me laugh.

" Well - you can tell me what you heard for starters." Honestly, I was still embarrassed. But I was even more eager to find out what I had said.

His face relaxed at my request. "You miss your mother," he whispered. "You repeat her name often. And when it rains, the sound makes you restless. You used to talk about Lima a lot, and escaping to New York, but it's less often now. You mainly talk about Elizabeth. You must have really loved her heels." He laughed softly, hoping, I could see, as to not to offend me any further.

" Was there anything else?" I demanded. He knew what I was getting at. "You did say my name," he admitted.

I sighed in defeat. "Just the once?"

"I didn't really count, exactly…"

"Oh no!" I hung my head. He pulled me against his chest, softly, naturally. "Don't be self-conscious," he whispered in my ear. "I wasn't lying when I said that all my dreams of late, regardless of their nature, have been about you. And I'm not ashamed of it." Then we both heard the sound of tires on the brick driveway, saw the headlights flash through the front windows, down the hall to us. I stiffened in his arms.

"Does Burt know I'm here?" he asked as Dad's key turned in the door. "I know you said it was okay for me to come in but…"

"I'm not sure…" I tried to think it through quickly. Had I mentioned that Blaine would be coming over? Would Burt care? We hadn't really talked about it. He had said he wanted Blaine to come inside when he picked me up from school in the morning but I wasn't sure if Blaine being here now would bother him. And Blaine was right – I had suggested it. My thought process however was obviously not fast enough. Burt was seconds away from the kitchen.

"Kurt?" he called.

"In here!" I hoped he couldn't hear the hysterical edge to my voice. I grabbed my dinner from the microwave and sat at the table as he walked in. His footsteps sounded so noisy after my day with Blaine. Blaine took the seat next to me.

"Can you get me some of that? It's been a heck of day." He stepped on the heels of his boots to take them off, holding the back of my chair for support. Only then did he realize. "Oh hey, Blaine! I didn't realize you were coming round?"

"I hope I'm not overstepping, Mr. Hummel. Kurt did say it would be all right."

"'Course it is." Burt confirmed, "Though Kurt, do you mind maybe giving the heads up next time you invite over the boyfriend? We don't have anything to feed this boy but leftover lasagna!"

"It's okay," Blaine insisted, "It was lovely. Here, let me get you help you with that fish."

He rose swiftly, despite Burt's protests and I ate my food silently as I watched Blaine then get Burt his dinner.

"So you really must like to fish a lot, Mr. Hummel."

"Sure do," Burt said, "Best part is when it's cooked though. Kurt works some miracles with that fish."

Blaine nodded, "I'm certain that he does."

"Thanks," Burt said as Blaine placed his food on the table.

"How was your day?" I asked, my voice faltering slightly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Blaine it's just I thought it'd be okay because you guys don't get to talk much."

Burt looked at me, eyebrow raised. "Okay, Kurt? Stop being so nervous. I'm glad you brought Blaine round. I want to see more of the kid who's making my son happy. God knows you see enough of Carole. Now – to answer your question, my day was good. Even convinced Artie to come out and the fish were really biting… but what about you two? Did you have fun doing… whatever it is you guys got up to?"

"We really did. Blaine is the perfect gentleman. And it was a lovely day." I took another big bite.

"It really was a nice day," he agreed. What an understatement, I thought to myself.

Finished with the last bit of lasagna, I lifted my glass and chugged the remains of my milk.

Burt surprised me by being observant. "You two in a hurry to go somewhere?"

"No, we both had a big day. We might just head up to my room and watch old movies."

"It's Saturday night," he mused. "Why would you kids want to stay indoors?"

I couldn't find the right words but Blaine easily stepped in for me, "I guess Kurt and I are just old-fashioned."

"Fair enough," Burt seemed to accept, "Guess you should probably both wait till college for that kind of lifestyle."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," I said sarcastically as I headed up the stairs with Blaine.

"Door open!" he called out after us.

I rolled my eyes but did as he said as we got into my room. I headed for the DVD player immediately, "Okay, our Cary Grant black and white movie marathon can officially begin! Do you want to start with _North by Northwest _or _To Catch A Thief_?"

He didn't answer straightaway. He was sitting across my bed, his hands behind his head; his feet dangling off the end, the picture of ease.

"Blaine?" I whispered, feeling completely idiotic.

"Why don't you sit with me for a bit?" he suggested, extending his cold hand out to mine.

"Okay."

We sat there for a moment in silence; I'm sure Blaine could hear my heart beating loudly though. Even with the door open, I thought about having Blaine in my room with my father in the house. I could hear the sound from the TV rising up the stairs so I knew Burt wouldn't come up to bother me, or probably wouldn't want to, even if he had requested the open door.

"I might just go quickly go for a shower, if that's okay?"

He nodded, "I'll be right here." He relaxed on my bed, still as a statue.

I meant to hurry. I brushed my teeth fiercely, trying to be thorough and speedy, removing all traces of lasagna. But the hot water of the shower couldn't be rushed. It unknotted the muscles in my back, calmed my pulse.

The familiar smell of my shampoo made me feel like I might be the same person I had been this morning. I tried not to think of Blaine, sitting in my room, waiting, because then I had to start all over with the calming process. I shut off the water, toweling hastily, rushing again. Thank God I had made sense to pack the Victoria's Secret silk pajamas I had bought for myself. They might have looked feminine to some but - Fashion knows no gender.

I rubbed the towel through my hair again, and then brushed my hair quickly, pulling the brush through my hands gently with a little gel. I was itching to use the hairspray but I was scared of how obvious it would be if I was using it and I didn't want Blaine laughing at me.

Out in my room, Blaine hadn't moved a fraction of an inch. He sat there, seemingly taking me in with his eyes. He raised one eyebrow. "Nice."

I grimaced.

"No, it looks good on you."

"Thanks," I whispered. I went back to his side, sitting cross-legged beside him. I looked at the lines in the wooden floor. "So I was wondering…" I began, but his fingers were slowly tracing my collarbone, and I lost my train of thought.

"Yes?" he breathed.

"Why is it that…" my voice shook, embarrassing me, "…that it seems you find it so much easier to be around me, do you think?"

I felt the tremor of his breath on my neck as he laughed.

"Mind over matter."

I pulled back; as I moved, he froze — and I could no longer hear the sound of his breathing. We stared cautiously at each other for a moment, and then, as his clenched jaw gradually relaxed, his expression became puzzled.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"No — the opposite. You're driving me crazy," I explained.

He considered that briefly, and when he spoke, he sounded please. "Really?" A triumphant smile slowly lit his face.

"Would you like a round of applause?" I asked sarcastically.

He grinned. "I'm just pleasantly surprised," he clarified. "In the last hundred years or so," his voice was teasing, "I never imagined anything like this. I didn't believe I would ever find someone I wanted to be with… in another way than my brothers and sisters. And then to find, even though it's all new to me, that I'm good at it… at being with you…"

"But how can it be so easy _now_?" I pressed. "This afternoon… when we…"

"It's not easy," he sighed. "But this afternoon, I was still… I am sorry about that; it was unforgivable for me to behave so."

"Not quite," I disagreed.

"Thank you… You see," he continued, looking down now, "I wasn't sure if I was strong enough…" He picked up one of my hands and pressed it lightly to his face. "Because it's not just your blood I crave. And while there was still that possibility that I might be… overcome" — he breathed in the scent at my wrist — "I was… susceptible. Until I made up my mind that I was strong enough, that there was no possibility at all that I would… that I ever could…"

I'd never seen him struggle so hard for words. It was so… human.

"So there's no possibility now?"

"Mind over matter," he repeated, smiling, his teeth bright even in the darkness.

"Wow, that was easy," I said.

He threw back his head and laughed, quietly as a whisper, but still exuberantly.

"Easy for you!" he amended, touching my nose with his fingertip. "It doesn't help that you're incredibly beautiful."

And then his face was abruptly serious. "I'm trying," he whispered, his voice pained. "If it gets to be… too much, I'm fairly sure I'll be able to leave."

I scowled. "You're being dramatic, Blaine. I keep telling you, where _that_ department is concerned that you have more need to worry about how _I'm_ going to keep control of staying away from you."

He laughed. "I suppose… but keeping in control from your blood will be harder tomorrow. I've had the scent of you in my head all day, and I've grown amazingly desensitized to it. If I'm away from you for any length of time, I'll have to start over again. Not quite from scratch, though, I think. But this craving for your body…"

"Don't go away, then," I responded, unable to hide the longing in my voice.

"That suits me," he replied, his face relaxing into a gentle smile. There was a small pause. "Kurt? I need to ask you something."

"Ask away."

"Can you teach me how to live with the human emotion that's been defined as jealously?"

I couldn't help it – I laughed. "Blaine, whatever in the world are you feeling jealous about?"

He couldn't quite meet my gaze. "I don't like the way some of the male student body looks at you."

I raised an eyebrow. "You have got to be kidding, right? I thought we established that I have as much sexual appeal as a baby penguin."

Blaine shook his head. "No. That's what you established up all on your own. I happen to think you're very sexy, yet for some reason, it's very complicated to explain how I'm not the only one. Kurt… I implore of you, please tell me how, I might have the strongest urges, but I am never the only one at any given time who wants to devour you in more ways than one…"

"…You're being overdramatic again," I whispered, because Blaine's words had somehow caught in my throat. "They can look all they want, whether or not I notice it, because what they all fail to realize – what you fail to realize – is that an any given time I am only yours. Always, only yours."

I knew I was sounding like an actor out of a Shakespearean novel but I was a complete sucker for romance and, right now, admitting these things to Blaine Cullen, in my bed, was driving me into complete ecstasy.

"So…" I said, my voice still a whisper, "When did you first realize your jealously was becoming a problem?"

Blaine held me that much tighter when he answered. "Oh that's easy. That would be the first night I came here to watch you. It was then, while watching you sleep, with the chasm between what I knew was right, moral, ethical, and what I wanted. I knew that if I continued to ignore you as I had been, or if I left for a few years, till you were gone, that someday you would say yes to a boy from school, or someone like him. It made me angry."

I snorted.

"And then," he whispered back, ignoring me, "...as you were sleeping, you said my name. You spoke so clearly, at first I thought you'd woken. But you rolled over restlessly and mumbled my name once more, and sighed. The feeling that coursed through me then was unnerving, staggering. And I knew I couldn't ignore you any longer." He was silent for a moment, probably listening to the suddenly uneven pounding of my heart. "So this jealousy thing… it's a strange feeling. So much more powerful than I would have thought. And irrational…!" He shook his head angrily.

"It'll pass," I promised.

"I'm new at this; you're resurrecting the human in me, and everything feels stronger because it's fresh."

"But honestly," I teased, "for _that_ to bother you, after I have to hear that Quinn — Quinn, the incarnation of pure beauty, Quinn — was meant for you. Puck or no Puck - even throw aside the fact that she's a woman - what if Will had introduced you to someone else of your kind, someone who was more exclusive to our lifestyle? How would I compete with that?"

"There is no competition." His teeth gleamed. He drew my trapped hands around his back, holding me to his chest. I kept as still as I could, even breathing with caution.

"I know there's no competition," I mumbled into his cold skin. "I'm fabulous, that's the problem."

Blaine smiled. "I know how it might seem to you that being introduced to someone of my kind could be a threat to you but they could never have one tenth, no, one hundredth of the attraction you hold for me." He was serious now, thoughtful. "For almost ninety years I've walked among my kind _and_ yours… all the time thinking I was complete in myself, not realizing what I was seeking. And not finding anything, because - you weren't alive yet."

"It hardly seems fair," I whispered, my face still resting on his chest, listening to his breath come and go. "I haven't had to wait at all. Why should I get off so easily?"

"You're right," he agreed with amusement. "I should make this harder for you, definitely." He freed one of his hands, released my wrist, only to gather it carefully into his other hand. He stroked my wet hair softly, from the top of my head to my waist. "You only have to risk your life every second you spend with me, that's surely not much. You only have to risk your virginity every single moment that you're with me. You only have to turn your back on nature, on humanity… on your hopes and dreams, of going to New York… what's that worth?"

He was right. I was _all_ for my hopes and dreams. Was I really ready to give all of that up? "I don't _feel_ deprived of anything."

"Not yet." And his voice was abruptly full of ancient grief.

I tried to pull back, to look in his face, but his hand locked my wrists in an unbreakable hold. He lowered his lips to mine and I accepted the kiss gracefully eager to kiss him back but the moment was short-lived.

"Blaine, what —" I started to ask, when his body became alert and he swiftly resumed into a sitting position right next to me, suddenly releasing my hands as he whispered, "Burt's coming!"

At the news, I narrowly avoided falling on my face in my attempt to sit up and grab one of the DVDs that were still sprawled on my bed.

Burt peeked in through the doorway, staring at the two of us looking at our choice of Cary Grant DVDs with a smile on his face. Little did he know that we had long forgotten them. He cleared his throat. "I'm about to head to sleep myself, but without sounding rude here, Blaine, I think it's best if you were out by midnight. I wouldn't want Will and Emma to worry."

"Sure thing, Mr. Hummel. Thank you, sir."

A long minute passed. "Well, goodnight then. I'm closing the door halfway but you can only shut it once Blaine's gone. No funny business, okay?"

"Oh my God… _Dad_!"

But Blaine's cool arm was around me, comforting me gently. "Of course, sir. Good night, Mr. Hummel."

Dad nodded and left the room. I immediately exhaled. "I am so sorry for that. Like I said, I've never had a boyfriend before. This is new for him too."

"No need to apologize," Blaine insisted, "I like that you have a father who cares deeply for you."

He started humming a melody I didn't recognize; it sounded like a lullaby. "Should I sing you to sleep?"

"Right," I laughed. "Like I could sleep with you here!"

"You do it all the time," he reminded me.

"But I didn't know you were here," I replied icily. "And I thought we agreed, you shouldn't be doing that anymore! Tonight should be about helping you fall asleep."

"Yes, but I don't _need_ to sleep."

"So if you don't want to sleep…" I said, my tone suggestive.

"If I don't want to sleep… ?" he chuckled. "What do you want to do then?"

I couldn't answer at first. "I want to kiss you."

His head tilted and he looked at me carefully. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay," he repeated, "Kiss me, Kurt."

We kissed for a long time after that. I kept pausing, afraid that Burt was going to run in hear with his shotgun but that never happened. Eventually, the need to slow things down became quite evident so I distracted my teenage thoughts with my eagerness to know more about his family.

"Why is it that you and Mercedes are different to the rest of your family? How is it that you can read minds and she can see the future?"

I was lying on his chest as he played with my hair. I'd never felt more comfortable or relaxed. I could feel the coolness of his abs seeping through his shirt.

"We don't really know." Blaine answered "Will has a theory though. He believes that we all bring something of our strongest human traits with us into the next life, where they are intensified — like our minds, and our senses. He thinks that I must have already been very sensitive to the thoughts of those around me. And that Mercedes had some precognition, wherever she was."

"So then what till Will bring when he changed? And what about the others in your family?"

"Will brought his compassion. Emma brought her ability to love passionately. Puck brought his strength, Quinn her… tenacity. Sam is very interesting. He was quite charismatic in his first life, able to influence those around him to see things his way. Now he is able to manipulate the emotions of those around him — calm down a room of angry people, for example, or excite a lethargic crowd, conversely. It's a very subtle gift." I considered the impossibilities he described, trying to take it in. He waited patiently while I thought.

"So where did it all start? I mean, Will changed you, and then someone must have changed him, and so on…"

"Well, where did _you_ come from? Evolution? Creation? Couldn't we have evolved in the same way as other species, predator and prey? Or, if you don't believe that the world could have just happened on its own, which is hard for me to accept myself, is it so hard to believe that the same force that created the delicate angelfish with the shark, the baby penguin and the killer whale, could create both our kinds together?"

"Let me get this straight — I'm the baby penguin, right?"

"Right." He laughed, and felt his lips on my hair.

I wanted to turn toward him, but we had been doing so much kissing that I had to be good; I didn't want to make this any harder for him than it already was.

"Are you ready to sleep?" he asked, interrupting the short silence. "Or do you have any more questions?"

"Only a million or two."

"We have tomorrow, and the next day, and the next…" he reminded me.

I smiled, "Just _one_ more question for tonight…" I asked, literally pouting, and he nodded, giving in.

"I want to know if your human instincts… Well, do you find me attractive, in that way, at all?"

He laughed and lightly rumpled my nearly dry hair.

"I may not be a human, but I am a man," he assured me. "Now! I've answered your last question, Kurt. You should sleep," he insisted. "If you promise to get some rest, I promise to lie beside you and attempt the same. Unless…"

"Unless what?"

"Unless you want me to leave?"

"No!" I said too loudly.

He laughed, and then began to hum that same, unfamiliar lullaby; the voice of an archangel, soft in my ear. "Softly, love, we don't want to wake up, Burt."

More tired than I realized and exhausted from the long day, I drifted to sleep in his cold arms.

**A/N: Hey guys, just a few things: **

**- If you haven't yet checked out 'United States of Kurt' by CountingCrow16 please do so, it's fab!**

**- If you would like to view fanart for the above fic you may do at paperstylehearts dot deviantart dot com. You DON'T need an account on there to leave a comment so feel free to do so!**

**And lastly… what did you think of this chapter? Is it worth another update? Please review! (A HUGE thank you to everyone who did so on the last chapter :)**

**I'm trying to contain myself, but this fic is almost on a hundred reviews! I have never, _ever_, had a fic reach that mark so maybe if it does - well, I don't know, it's never happened before! Special mention to the reviewer who makes the 100th review in the next chapter!**

**Much love,**

**paperstylehearts**


	17. Chapter 15: The Cullens

**A/N: I can't believe you guys have helped me reach 100 reviews – you're all amazing! I can't wait to hear what you think of this chapter! We're getting really close to the end now!**

Chapter Fifteen – **The Cullens**

I was not in the mood to wake up the next day… I had been having a really good dream - Blaine's beautiful singing voice echoed in my head. And then I suddenly remembered…

"Blaine?" I called out immediately feeling his hands curl around me.

"It's okay, love, I'm right here…"

"Mmm," I agreed sleepily as his grip on me tightened, "You better leave before Burt finds you. I think you might have missed your midnight curfew and I wasn't joking about that shot gun of his."

"He already left," Blaine explained, "About an hour go. He was up early, replacing the battery in your truck. And then he left with Carole a bit after that."

"So we have the house to ourselves?" I asked casually, as his hands roamed underneath my shirt and all over my back.

"I guess…" he said kissing into my hair.

"Not so fast Blaine, my hair is a mess!"

"You're fine, Kurt. At least you don't look like Borat." He pointed to his own hair. We both laughed gently as his hands rubbed my back. "Did you sleep well?" I asked. I laid my head cautiously against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of his skin.

"Better than you can imagine. I went to sleep dreaming of you. I guess that's my cue to stay here more often. William would be proud to know I am getting rest."

Eventually, I excused myself to the bathroom. There was no way I was going to let my hair sit without hairspray this morning so after I brushed my teeth, I used the can to make it sit the way I liked it. I splashed my face with cold water, moisturized vigorously and went back out to see Blaine.

"Welcome back," he joked, sitting in the rocking chair that Elizabeth had once used to rock me to sleep. I settled into his lap and he rocked me for a while in silence, until I noticed that his clothes were changed, his hair smooth. I would have only been about fifteen minutes, twenty max and—

"You left?" I accused, touching the collar of his fresh shirt.

"I could hardly leave in the clothes I came in — what would the neighbors think?"

"Fair point. Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"Not while you were gone. But last night… you spoke again in your sleep."

I didn't quite look at him, cradling into his neck. I was still embarrassed but at least he hadn't heard from spying on me.

"What did you hear?" I asked.

"You said you loved me."

"You knew that already," I reminded him, "I really do love you." I whispered, hiding my face against his shoulder.

"You are my life now," he answered simply.

I took a while to let that sink in. We had come so far, so fast, and I was still not used to having this beautiful man in my life. He rocked us back and forth as the room grew lighter.

"Come on," I said taking his hand, "While you may be able to sit there forever, some of us still need to eat!"

We entered the kitchen and I told him of my redecorating plans as I scooped out a bowl and box of cereal. We discussed different colors and wallpapers and the promised money Burt would lend me to fix the kitchen up.

"It sounds very tasteful," Blaine agreed, "So – did you have anything you wanted to specifically do today? Because I kinda had something in mind…"

"Do tell."

He paused, looking down at the floor, a smile crossing his face, "What would you say to meeting my family?"

I stopped mid-bite with my cereal, "Won't they be, well, surprised that you would bring a human home to meet them?"

"They already know everything. They'd taken bets yesterday, though why anyone would bet against Mercedes, I can't imagine. At any rate, we don't have secrets in the family. It's not really feasible, what with my mind reading and Mercedes seeing the future and all that."

"And Sam's ability to twist your emotions, don't forget about that."

"You paid attention," he smiled approvingly.

"A skill I didn't learn that from Rachel." I grimaced. Suddenly I had an idea. "If nothing else, you should introduce me to your parents, at least."

"William already knows you," Blaine reminded me.

"As your boyfriend, I mean." I stared at him with a coy smile. "I just feel the old-fashioned sense of it all will mean a lot to them and considering how taboo everything is, I just want to do this the right way."

He didn't answer, at least not verbally, settling instead for kissing the tip of my forehead. He stared into my eyes for an immeasurable period of time.

"So… are you finished with breakfast?" he finally asked.

I jumped up. "Yes."

"Get dressed — I'll wait here."

It was hard to decide what to wear. I doubted there were any editions of Cosmopolitan detailing how to dress when your gay vampire boyfriend takes you home to meet his vampire family. Perhaps if I became a fashion editor I could write up my own column myself.

In the end, I settled for my dark black jeans, tight enough so that I'd know he'd be staring, but not tight enough to make the rest of the family feel awkward. I also put on a dark blue shirt he'd once complimented and accessorized with chains. A quick once over in the mirror had me using some more hairspray and then with a hint of cologne, I made my way back down.

"Okay." I bounced down the stairs. "I'm decent." He was waiting at the foot of the stairs, closer than I'd thought, and as a result, I fell straight into him. He steadied me, holding me a careful distance away for a few seconds before suddenly pulling me closer.

"Wrong again," he murmured in my ear. "You are utterly indecent — no one should look so tempting in those jeans…"

"Tempting how?" I asked teasingly. "I can always change if you like…"

"No! Don't! You look _amazing_. You are making it absolutely impossible for me to keep my hands off you." He pressed his cool lips delicately to mine, and the room spun. The smell of his breath made it impossible to think. I kissed him back hungrily, absorbing every piece of him that I could, my arms linking around his neck as the kiss deepened.

"Shall I explain how tempting you are to me?" he said. It was clearly a rhetorical question. His fingers traced slowly down my spine, his breath coming more quickly against my skin. My hands were linked loosely still behind his neck and I had a goofy smile on my face as I stared into his eyes. He tilted his head slowly and kissed me again, harder this time. His hands had reached my waist and he was holding me like he never wanted to let me go.

"Blaine…" I whispered, a small urgency in my voice, "W-we have to s-stop. Or…"

He put his cool forehead against mine and sighed, "You're right."

After we had both collected ourselves, and my jeans had finally become just that little more comfortable to wear, I realized, as he drove my truck out of the main part of town, that I had no idea where he lived.

I don't know what I had expected Blaine's house to look like but it was nothing compared to what I actually saw. It was timeless, graceful, and probably a hundred years old. It was painted a soft, faded white, three stories tall, rectangular and well proportioned. I couldn't see any other cars but my truck. In the distance, I could hear the river. I stood stunned staring at the place in awe.

"Do you like it?" he smiled.

"You're kidding right? It's beautiful…"

"Ready to come inside then?"

I sighed, "Not even a little but – let's go." I ran my hands through my hair nervously.

"Don't worry so much," he said taking my hand as I got out of the truck, "You look amazing. They're gonna love you." He squeezed my hand easily, without even thinking about it.

We walked through the deep shade up to the porch. I knew he could feel how tense I was; his thumb rubbed soothing circles into the back of my hand. I was getting really nervous now – I know he said I shouldn't worry – but what on Earth would I do if they didn't like me?

Ever the gentleman, Blaine opened the door for me.

The inside was even more surprising, less predictable, than the exterior.

It was very bright, very open, and very large. This must have originally been several rooms, but the walls had been removed from most of the first floor to create one wide space. The back, south-facing wall had been entirely replaced with glass, and, beyond the shade of the cedars, the lawn stretched bare to the wide river. A massive curving staircase dominated the west side of the room. The walls, the high-beamed ceiling, the wooden floors, and the thick carpets were all varying shades of white.

Waiting to greet us, standing just to the left of the door, on a raised portion of the floor by a spectacular grand piano, were Blaine's parents.

I'd seen Will Cullen before, yet I couldn't help but be struck again by his youth - or his unruly dark curly hair. At his side was Emma. She had the same pale, beautiful features as the rest of them. Something about her wide eyes and her auburn hair reminded me of Elizabeth. Emma had a friendly smile too. Will and Emma were both dressed casually, in light colors that matched the inside of the house.

"Will, Emma," Blaine's voice broke the short silence, "this is Kurt. My boyfriend."

Out of shock, I bowed slightly. "Thank you, for having me over today Dr. and Mrs. Cullen."

"You're very welcome, Kurt." Will's step was measured, careful as he approached me. He raised his hand tentatively, and I stepped forward to shake hands with him.

"It's nice to see you again, Dr. Cullen."

"Please, call me Will."

"Will." I grinned at him, my sudden confidence surprising me. I could feel Blaine's relief at my side.

Emma smiled and stepped forward as well, reaching for my hand. Her cold, stone grasp was just as I expected. "It's a pleasure to meet you Kurt," she said sincerely. "It's so nice to finally meet the boy who makes our Blaine so happy."

"Where are Mercedes and Sam?" Blaine asked, but as if on autopilot they both suddenly appeared.

"Hey, Blaine!" Mercedes called enthusiastically. She ran down the stairs, a streak of wavy black hair and pale dark skin, coming to a sudden and graceful stop in front of me. Will and Emma shot warning glances at her, but I liked it. It was natural — for her, anyway.

"Hi, Kurt!" Mercedes said, and she bounced forward to kiss my cheek. If Will and Emma had looked cautious before, they now looked staggered.

"Hi Mercedes," I greeted, "Keeping up with those vocal runs?"

"Oh boy, don't you know it!"

I was very pleased that she seemed to approve of me so entirely – for one, the clothes she wore were incredibly divalicious. I could immediately see myself warming to her – and her hat. Especially her hat.

And then there was Sam. Tall, brooding, blonde and handsome… the face of a poster boy in magazines I'd never confide to Blaine that I actually looked at. As I stared at his face, a feeling of ease spread through me, and I was suddenly comfortable. Blaine stared at Sam, raising one eyebrow, and I remembered what Sam could do.

"Hello, Kurt," Sam said. He kept his distance, not offering to shake my hand. It was hard for him to be around humans, I knew that. But it was also impossible to feel awkward near him.

"Hello, Sam." I smiled at him. "It's nice to meet you all — you have a very beautiful home," I added conventionally. "I can't even recommend anything that needs redecorating."

"Thank you," Emma said. "We're so glad that you came." She spoke with feeling. I had a feeling she thought I was really brave to be here.

I also realized that Quinn and Puck were nowhere to be seen, and I remembered Blaine's too-innocent denial when I'd asked him if the others didn't like me.

Will's expression distracted me from this train of thought; he was gazing meaningfully at Blaine with an intense expression. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blaine nod once.

I looked away, trying to be polite. My eyes wandered again to the beautiful instrument on the platform by the door. I suddenly remembered my childhood fantasy that, should I ever win a lottery, I would buy a grand piano for my mother. She was really good but she only played for her and Dad and me on our secondhand upright — but I loved to watch her play. She was happy, absorbed — she seemed like a new, mysterious being to me then, like an angel. She gave me lessons and I learned fast but after she got sick, I stopped playing.

Emma noticed my preoccupation. "Do you play?" she asked, inclining her head toward the piano.

"Not anymore. But it's so beautiful. Is it yours?"

"No," she laughed. "It belongs to Blaine."

I stared in aghast. First his voice and now… "I give up… Blaine can do everything!" I explained.

Sam snickered and Emma gave Blaine a reproving look. "I hope you haven't been showing off Blaine— it's rude," she scolded. "Have you lost the pamphlet I gave you about that?"

"I might have," he laughed freely. Her face softened at the sound, and they shared a brief look that I didn't understand, though Emma's face seemed almost smug. "I have plenty more where they come from!"

Sam laughed again. "Blaine? A showoff? Really, Mother! I for one think you should play for Kurt, Blaine."

Blaine nudged him, hard, but Emma was encouraging him the same thing too. "No I agree," Emma approved. "You should play for Kurt."

"You just said showing off was rude," he objected.

"There are exceptions to every rule," she replied.

"I'd like to hear you play," I volunteered, hoping that would help ease his decision.

"It's settled then." Emma pushed him toward the piano. He pulled me along, sitting me on the bench beside him.

He gave me a long, exasperated look before he turned to the instrument.

And then his fingers flowed swiftly across the ivory keys, and the room was filled with a composition so beautiful, it was impossible to believe only one set of hands played. I'd only ever heard one other person play this beautifully before – my mother.

Blaine looked at me casually, the music still surging around us without a break, and winked. "Do you like it?"

"Blaine, did you write this?" I gasped, understanding.

He nodded. "It's Emma's favorite." I closed my eyes as the music slowed, transforming into something softer, and to my surprise I detected the melody of his lullaby weaving through the profusion of notes.

"You inspired this one," he said softly. The music grew unbearably sweet. I couldn't speak. Of all the romantic gestures…

"They like you, you know," he said conversationally. "Emma especially."I glanced behind me, but the huge room was empty now.

"Where did they go?"

"Very subtly giving us some privacy, I suppose."

I sighed. "They like me. But Quinn and Puck…" I trailed off, not sure how to express my doubts.

He frowned. "Don't worry about Quinn," he said, his eyes wide and persuasive. "She'll come around."

I pursed my lips skeptically. "Puck?"

"Well, he thinks I'm a loser, it's true, but he doesn't have a problem with you. He's trying to reason with Quinn."

"What is it that upsets her?" I wasn't sure if I wanted to know the answer.

He sighed deeply. "Quinn struggles the most with… with what we are. It's hard for her to have someone on the outside know the truth. And she's a little jealous."

"Quinn is jealous of me?" I asked incredulously. I tried to imagine a universe in which someone as breathtaking as Quinn would have any possible reason to feel jealous of someone like me. I mean I knew I was fabulous – but she was Project Runway beautiful.

"It's because you're human," he shrugged. "She wishes that she were, too."

"Oh," I muttered, still stunned. "Why was Sam so… distant…?"

"That's really my fault," he said. "I told you he was the most recent to try our way of life. I warned him to keep his distance." I thought about the reason for that, and shuddered.

"Emma and Will…?" I continued quickly, to keep him from noticing.

"They are happy to see me happy. Actually, Emma wouldn't care if you had a third eye and webbed feet. All this time she's been worried about me, afraid that there was something missing from my life, that I was too young when Will changed me… So now she's ecstatic. Every time I touch you, she just about chokes with satisfaction."

"Mercedes seems very… enthusiastic. I can see us getting along really well. She has a wonderful fashion sense."

"Mercedes is beautiful. She has her own way of looking at things," Blaine said, "Just between me and you, she's my favorite. She er… wanted me to warn you… because I'm going to be a little… overbearingly protective over the next few days — or weeks — and I wouldn't want you to think I'm becoming too weird or anything."

"What do you mean?" I asked curiously, "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, exactly. Mercedes just sees some visitors coming soon. They know we're here, and they're curious."

"Visitors?"

"Yes… well, they're vampires too, though they aren't quite like us — in their hunting habits, I mean. They probably won't come into town at all, but I'm certainly not going to let you out of my sight till they're gone."

He followed my gaze as I stared off into the house again. "Not what you expected, is it?" he asked, his voice smug.

"No," I admitted. "There's no coffins, no piled skulls in the corners; I don't even think you have cobwebs… what a disappointment …"

He made light of my teasing. "It's the one place we never have to hide." The song he was still playing, my song, drifted to an end, the final chords shifting to a more melancholy key. The last note hovered poignantly in the silence.

"Thank you," I murmured. I realized there were tears in my eyes. I dabbed at them, embarrassed.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"No coffins?" I verified, the sarcasm in my voice evident. He laughed, taking my hand, leading me away from the piano.

"No coffins," he promised.

**A/N: Yes readers, we really are getting close to the end! The next chapter is called "William Schuester-Cullen" and the one after that is "The Game" – in which we meet the Nomads! Keeping in mind, that this series will not be as closely linked to the original Twilight as you might think… As always, I appreciate your continued support! Please review!**


	18. Chapter 16: William Cullen

**A/N: ****Thank you for being so patient with this update! My two new stories have kept me on my toes (and I am SO excited to see some of you have followed me on there!) but I promise this hasn't been abandoned! Now down to business… a lovely anonymous reviewer mentioned (P.S to them I hope you got an account so I can thank you properly!) that I forgot to mention who our 100****th**** reviewer was!**

**So without further adieu… Drumroll please…**

**The special mention goes to: ****_yaoilover1013_**

**Note to yaoilover1013:**** Congrats friend! As a special treat, I will write you a glee one-shot of your own choosing – just no extreme kinks pls lol. Any pairing is fine! Please PM me the details of your prompt! I read a lot of BL/yaoi when I'm not on fanfiction FYI. **

**Note to ouran-lyoko-girl****: Because you asked for it, I made a special Puck scene just for you! :)**

**Wow, long author note was long. Onto the chapter!**

**Warning: Slight!Smut in this chapter.**

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><p><span>Chapter Sixteen – <span>**William Cullen**

We walked up the massive staircase, my hand trailing along the satin-smooth rail. The long hallway at the top of the stairs was paneled with a honey-colored wood, the same as the floorboards.

"Quinn and Puck's room… Will's office… Mercedes and Sam's room…" Blaine gestured as he led me past the doors.

He would have continued the tour but Will, who had heard us coming, appeared suddenly from within his office smiling briefly at me and apologizing for the interruption.

"Is it okay if I borrow Blaine for a sec?" he asked and he was so polite about it there was no refusing him if you paid me.

I stood outside patiently, staring at the door that Blaine had disappeared behind. A couple of doors down, like Blaine had explained, was Quinn and Puck's room. I wondered if that's where they were hiding but I wasn't curious enough to creep over and find out.

The door however was slightly ajar. While it was impossible to hear anything Blaine and Will might be discussing it wasn't as hard noticing that there were definitely raised voices coming over from Quinn and Puck's room.

I strained my ears just that little bit harder.

"Please babe, just let it go." It sounded a lot like Puck. Quinn's response to this was hard to decipher. She was speaking much too fast for me to understand what she was saying.

"Fine," Puck said, "But I'm going out to say hi."

It took me just that annoying little human second too long to react and realize that Puck was soon coming out to join me

"Hey Swan!" Puck said and my face flushed red the way it does when you realize you've been caught listening to something you weren't supposed to. Puck had closed the door behind him. "I thought I smelled human out here!"

He laughed comically but I stood silently not sure what to say. It didn't take long for him to reach my side.

"I'm sorry I didn't come down to meet you with the others. It's not that I don't like you. I think you're pretty cool for a human. It's just Quinn can be difficult. And sometimes she drives a hard bargain to get her way."

"So, no hard feelings then?" I asked just to make sure.

"Nah dude, of course not. How can I have it in for someone that has my man Blaine's best interests in mind?"

I thanked him and was reassured when he held out his fist for me to bump. We were out there standing on the railing talking for a fair while; Puck was a gamer and a Star Wars fan so I promised to verse him on their Xbox eventually and hold a Star Wars movie marathon with him sometime. He was pretty cool in a protective kind of way. I was having such a good conversation with him that I didn't notice Blaine sneak up behind me.

Much to my embarrassment, I kinda jumped.

"You know that's not fair!" I protested as he tried to hug me from behind.

"Please forgive me," he said quietly and then before I could respond he was tickling me mercilessly. Puck roared with laughter in the background.

"You two are like sappy teenagers from all those weird dramas the girls watch on television. Out there somewhere, fangirls all over the world are shipping you guys."

I smiled at him as Sam called out to Puck challenging him to a game of sorts. Puck bid me farewell and slid down the banister in a very Bart Simpson like fashion. Blaine shook his head. "Sorry about that. Puck sometimes isn't very classy."

"Says the man who almost tickled me to the death!"

"Hey, that was fun! You should have seen your face. But let's not haste… Will is hoping you might come in to chat with him?"

I agreed and he led me back to the room that he'd pointed out as Will's office. He paused outside the door for an instant.

"Come in," Will's voice invited.

Blaine opened the door to a high-ceilinged room with tall windows. The walls were paneled again, in a darker wood and most of the wall space was taken up by towering bookshelves.

Will sat behind a huge mahogany desk in a leather chair. He was just placing a bookmark in the pages of the thick volume he held. The room was how I'd always imagined a college dean's would look — only Will looked too young to fit the part.

"Thanks for coming in, Kurt," he said, rising from his seat. "I wanted to show you some of our history. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything was I?"

"Not at all."

"Excellent. Now—" He was interrupted by his pager and his face broke into a frown as he looked at it. "You're going to have to excuse me. One of the doctors isn't able to make his shift so they need me to call the hospital. I leave you in capable hands though Kurt. Blaine knows the stories as well as I do."

After another warm smile for me, Will left the room.

Behind his desk was a tapestry of what Blaine described to me as Will's hometown in the mid sixteen hundreds. I stared at image for a long moment.

"So how did Will find you?" I finally asked, staring up at Blaine, who was watching me. He glanced back to the paintings.

"He was working night shifts at a hospital in San Francisco, California when I was admitted there with severe head injuries. I was inches away from my life having been attacked in an alleyway by some men, quite like the ones who had approached you in Port Angeles, and I guess the thought of making a companion was one that had crossed his mind a lot. He had seen my file, knew my parents were long gone but he wasn't sure exactly how his own transformation had taken place so he was hesitant. But then he decided to try…" His voice, nearly a whisper now, trailed off. He stared unseeingly through the windows.

"Have you always stayed with Will, then?" I wondered.

"Almost always." He put his hand lightly on my waist and pulled me with him as he walked through the door. "I did eventually get a bit rebellious — about ten years after I was… born… or created or whatever you want to call it. I began craving human blood and I resented Will for curbing my appetite. So I went off on my own for a time."

"Really?" I was intrigued, rather than frightened, as I perhaps should have been and he could tell. I vaguely realized that we were headed up the next flight of stairs, but I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings.

"That doesn't repulse you?" he asked.

"No." I admitted.

"Why not?"

"I guess… it sounds kinda reasonable." He laughed. We were at the top of the stairs now, in another paneled hallway.

"From the time of my new birth," he murmured, "I had the advantage of knowing what everyone around me was thinking, both human and non-human alike. That's why it took me ten years to defy Will — I could read his perfect sincerity, understand exactly why he lived the way he did. It took me only a few years however, to return to Will and recommit to his vision. I tried too hard to justify the lives I took. Like if I saved a girl who had been followed into a dark alley by a murderer then surely I wasn't so terrible if I took his life."

I shivered, imagining only too clearly what he described — the alley at night, the frightened girl, the horrible man behind her. And Blaine, Blaine as he hunted, terrifying and yet so comic book super hero.

"But as time went on, I began to see the monster in my eyes. I couldn't escape the debt of so much human life taken, no matter how I justified it. And so I went back to Will and Emma. They welcomed me back like the prodigal son. It was more than I deserved."

We'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall.

"My room," he informed me, opening it and pulling me through.

His entire back wall was a made out of glass and from what I could tell with the view we were much closer to the mountains then I thought. To the left of us there was wall was completely covered with shelf after shelf of CDs. His room was better stocked than a music store. In the corner was a sophisticated-looking sound system, and adjacent to it was a beautifully crafted pearl imbedded acoustic guitar. There was a king sized bed, wide and inviting, and oh dear God, from just looking at it, it was probably Egyptian cotton. The floor was covered with a thick golden carpet, and the walls were hung with heavy fabric in a slightly darker shade.

Blaine picked up a remote and turned the stereo on. It was quiet, but the soft jazz number sounded like the band was in the room with us. I went to look at his mind-boggling music collection.

"How do you have these organized?" I asked, unable to find any rhyme or reason to the titles.

"Ummm, by year, and then by personal preference within that frame," he said absently.

I turned, and he was looking at me with a peculiar expression in his eyes.

"What?" I asked nervously.

"I was prepared to feel… relieved. Having you know about everything, not needing to keep secrets from you. But I didn't expect to feel more than that. I like it. It makes me… happy." He shrugged, smiling slightly.

"I'm glad," I said, smiling back. "I was worried that you might regret telling me these things. It's good to know that isn't the case."

But then, as his eyes dissected my expression, his smile faded and his forehead creased.

I thought I could probably guess what was bothering him. "I hate to burst your bubble Blaine Cullen, but you're really not as scary as you think you are. I don't find you scary at all, actually."

My hands rested on my hips as he raised his eyebrows in blatant disbelief. Then he flashed a wide, wicked smile.

"You really shouldn't have said that," he warned, chuckling slightly. He growled a low sound in the back of his throat; his lips curled back over his perfect teeth. His body shifted suddenly, half-crouched, tensed like a lion about to pounce.

I backed away from him, glaring. "You wouldn't."

I didn't see him leap at me — it was much too fast. I only found myself suddenly airborne, and then we crashed down onto the bed, knocking it into the wall. He placed my arms over my head and pinned me flat underneath him. I couldn't move but I was still smiling, still proving to him that I wasn't scared.

He wasn't having that. He tightened his grip, and then bent down grinding his hips against mine and then being a tease as he playfully refused my lips on his.

"You were saying?" he growled even more playfully.

"That you are a very, very terrifying monster," I said, my sarcasm marred a bit by my breathless voice.

"Much better," he approved.

"Um." I struggled. "You do realize that wasn't me talking with my brain."

"Really now?"

"Yes… That was me talking with a different part of the human anatomy… one much further south…"

Blaine's grin was wicked. "Oh I see. You mean _this_ one?" He finally let go of my hands but then used his free right one to palm at the stiffness of my erection.

I growled in pleasure.

"Jesus, Kurt. I thought _I _was the vampire in this relationship…"

He bent down and closed the small gap between our faces, kissing me hungrily as I used my now free hands to explore the expanse of his firm back, moving my hair through his curls which I had discovered as of late, was something he really enjoyed. He rubbed me through my jeans which were annoyingly uncomfortable.

"Uh Blaine," I said breaking the kiss which didn't stop him from sucking softly against my neck, "A little help here would be nice."

He didn't reply; he was too distracted with my neck. He did however manage to relieve some of the tension by loosening my belt and undoing the button on my denim jeans.

A sudden thought occurred to me as I realized what a luxurious bed I was on. "Blaine… I don't want to… you know… stain your sheets…"

He stared at me with lust filled eyes, "Is that the polite way of you asking me to suck you off? 'Cos you know, if I got all your come in my mouth, we _could_ save the sheets that way..."

"Uh-huh," I agreed, my voice suddenly breathless, "Wouldn't want anything to happen to the sheets…"

He pulled my pants past my knees and then threw them somewhere on the floor with my underwear. He stared longingly at my naked length tracing the size of it with the tips of his fingers.

"_Blaine_," I whined.

He chuckled quietly before sticking his tongue out to lick at my erection. I moaned flinging my hands back above my head again as he sunk his mouth over my head and bobbed up and down lavishing my cock with his tongue. His hand pumped me in time to keep with the rhythm of his mouth and I could hear the sucking noises he was making as he sunk down deeper, his hands massaging my balls as they reached further south.

The combination of his hand and mouth were too much. But it was the sheer way he looked at me with his eyes that caused me to completely come undone. With his face full of come, Blaine had saved his sheets. I lay there spent and immobile before he hovered over me. My quiet panting must have sounded a lot louder than that to him though.

"Wanna taste?" he asked, his voice a little sultry from having sucked my cock. I nodded breathlessly and he bent down to kiss me poking his tongue in mine so I could suck at it and taste myself on him there.

I explored the plains of his chest this time, flicking my hand over a pebbled nipple which caused him to jerk ever so slightly in surprise. A smile broke into our kiss and I could tell it was something he liked.

Which was why I couldn't understand why he was pulling away.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Mercedes," Blaine answered immediately, "She wants to know if she can come inside."

I was going to ask him how he knew that but Blaine was pointing to his forehead which I understood to mean she was communicating telepathically with him. I sighed but not before I hastily put my jeans on. Blaine lightly hit my ass when I was done but before I could reprimand him we were joined by his siblings.

When Mercedes walked it was almost like she danced, her movements were so graceful. She reached the center of the room, where she placed herself in a seated position on the floor. Sam, however, paused at the door, his expression curious. He stared at Blaine's face, and I wondered if he knew what had just happened with his gift of sensitivity.

"It sounded like you were having Kurt for lunch, so we came to rescue him," Mercedes announced.

I stiffened for an instant, until I realized Blaine was grinning —whether at her comment or my response, I couldn't tell.

"Sorry, I don't believe I have enough to spare," he replied, his arms holding me recklessly close.

"Actually," Sam said, smiling despite himself as he walked into the room, "Mercedes says there's going to be a real storm tonight, and Puck wants to play ball. Are you game?"

This confused me. I get that they wanted to play baseball but I couldn't understand why they were waiting for the weather to storm up.

I noticed as Blaine's eyes lit up at the mention of his favorite sport, but he hesitated.

"Of course you should bring Kurt," Mercedes chirped. I thought I saw Sam throw a quick glance at her.

"Do you want to go?" Blaine asked me, excited, his expression vivid.

"Sure." I couldn't disappoint such a face. "Um, when are we going?"

"We have to wait for thunder to play ball — you'll see why," he promised.

"Will I need an umbrella?" All three of them laughed aloud.

"Will he?" Sam asked Mercedes.

"No." She was positive. "The storm will hit over town. It should be dry enough in the clearing."

"Good, then." The enthusiasm in Sam's voice was catching, naturally. I found myself eager, rather than scared stiff.

"Let's go see if Will wants to come." Mercedes bounded up and to the door in a fashion that would have had her win a diva sound off.

"Like you don't know," Sam teased, and they were swiftly on their way. He managed to inconspicuously close the door behind them.

"What position am I?" I demanded. I absolutely could not play at all but I was willing to learn.

"_You_ will be watching," Blaine clarified. "_We_ will be playing baseball."

I rolled my eyes. "Vampires like baseball?"

"Vampires like baseball," he confirmed.


	19. Chapter 17: The Game

**A/N**: I'm so sorry this took so long guys but we are coming closer to the end now and I am starting to change more things from the original novel! In fact, I have changed the ending quite a bit from Twilight which is why this took so long. Thank you so much for your patience and support! It really means the world to me to know that you guys are reading this and have been patiently awaiting my updates since this story began over a year ago now! Special thanks to **Rose** and **KC** for their awesome super encouragement and motivation.

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><p><span>Chapter Seventeen – <span>**The Game**

After convincing Blaine that there was no way I was going to the game without getting changed first, he dropped me home. I was in the middle of deciding between my Armani vest and the Gucci one when my cell rang.

"If you're calling to ask me if I've made up my mind on the outfit yet, the answer is still no."

"Kurt? It's me," Rachel said. "And don't even think of wearing designer. We're going to be outside!"

"Oh, hey, Rach!" It took me a moment to catch on to what she was saying. "Did I miss something – did you justsay_ we_ were going to be hanging together outside?"

"I did! Since Blaine invited me to the baseball game! He said you weren't one for sports and you could probably do with the company."

So that explained it. I was definitely going to have to have a word with him. "Okay. Well I'm going to be a while sorting through my clothes so spill – how was the dance?"

"It was so much fun!" Rachel gushed. Needing no more invitation than that, she launched into a minute-by-minute account of the previous night.

"You did WHAT?"

Rachel giggled. "I said we went second base!"

"Oh I heard you! But have _you_ not heard of too much information?" I let that sink in for a bit. "Seriously though - what are _you_ wearing to the game? Wait – don't answer that. Ugh! Why is this so difficult?"

"Why don't you just borrow some of Finn's old clothes? I don't think you own anything that's worth getting dirty in a baseball field and I'm sure he wouldn't mind or even notice if you didn't tell him."

"True," I admitted, "But you're forgetting one thing - I wouldn't be caught dead in Finn's clothes. Are you coming over or what?"

"Yeah, I'm on my way over now. And be ready to tell me when I arrive exactly what you got up to yesterday, Kurt. I want DETAILS."

She hung up just as I heard Burt's car in the garage. In the end I settled for some loose fitting jeans and a plain white tee and spiked my hair with just a little gel. It was nowhere near as much as Blaine used but it was in there all the same. I sprinted downstairs to meet with Burt.

"Hi there, kiddo!" Burt called as he walked into the kitchen. I waved at him.

"Hey, Dad," I said. He was scrubbing his hands in the sink. "Where's the fish?"

"I put it out in the freezer."

"I'll go grab a few pieces before they freeze or we still have some that Artie dropped over of Harry Clearwater's." I worked to sound enthusiastic but even though there was a million ways _I_ could cook it, I was getting sick of fish.

"Harry's mix?" Burt's eyes lit up. "That's my favorite. Nothing like a good fish fry and a son who knows how to cook it."

Burt cleaned up while I got dinner ready. I really hoped Rachel would show up soon. Maybe I could convince her to take some of the fish home.

"So what did you get up to today?" Burt asked.

"I was at Blaine's," I said casually, "Didn't I tell you?"

"Maybe," Burt said, "I can't really remember. How was Dr. Cullen's house?"

"It was amazing, Dad. It was so timeless. Blaine wanted to introduce me to his parents so he took me. They were really nice… Dad?" It appeared that Burt was having an aneurysm.

"Dad, are you all right?"

"How old is Blaine again?"

"We're both juniors," I said, though I was getting a little curious. "Hang on - I thought you said you liked the Cullens. I thought you didn't mind me dating Blaine?"

"I know what I said Kurt but it's just… Wait…" He paused. "Doesn't one of his brother's have a Mohawk?"

"That would be Puck."

"Hmm… and Blaine's not into that, is he?"

"Where are you going with this?!"

"I'm sorry… I just don't want you to be around the wrong influence, y'know? You'll understand when you have kids."

"We're talking about _Blaine_, Dad. You've met him? Several times… Don't embarrass me with all the boyfriend talk, okay?"

"Is he coming over?"

"He and Rachel will be here in a few minutes, yes."

"Where is he taking you?"

I groaned loudly. "We're going to play baseball with his family."

His face puckered, and then he finally chuckled. "_You're_ playing baseball?"

"That's why Rachel's joining us. Blaine'll be playing. I'll be watching and she'll be keeping me company."

I hadn't realized how hard it was pouring outside but even the downpour couldn't hide the noise of the engine we both heard pull up. I distracted myself with the dishes as Burt answered it. Soon enough, Blaine stood there, the surrounding porch light giving the impression that a halo hung over his angelic head. He looked like a male model in an advertisement for raincoats.

"Come on in, Blaine." Burt welcomed.

"Thanks, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said in a respectful voice.

"Didn't I tell you to start calling me Burt? Here, I'll take your jacket."

Blaine sat down fluidly in the only single chair, forcing me to sit next to Burt on the sofa as I joined them. I quickly shot him a dirty look. He winked behind Burt's back.

"So I hear you're getting my boy to watch baseball." Only in Washington would the fact that it was raining buckets have no bearing at all on the playing of outdoor sports.

"Yes, sir, that's the plan." He didn't look surprised that I'd told my father the truth. He might have been listening, though.

"Well, more power to you, I guess." Burt laughed, and Blaine joined in.

"Okay." I stood up. "Enough humor at my expense. When is Rachel getting here?" I walked back to the hall and pulled on my jacket. They followed.

"She should be here soon," Blaine told me. Behind him, Burt nodded.

"Not too late, kiddo."

"Don't worry, Burt, I'll have Kurt home early," Blaine promised.

"You take care of my boy, all right?"

"He'll be safe with me, I promise, sir." Burt couldn't doubt Blaine's sincerity, it rang in every word.

"It's Burt. And thank you."

I stalked out. I hated the way they were talking about me as if I were a kid. They both laughed, and Blaine followed me.

I had seen a lot of cars in my time, especially having a father who was a mechanic. But I had never before seen such a monster Jeep. I stood dead on the front porch.

Its tires were higher than my waist. There were metal guards over the headlights and tail-lights, and four large spotlights attached to the crash bar. The hardtop was shiny red.

Burt let out a low whistle. "Now that's a sweet ride!" he exclaimed. "Oh look, here's Rachel."

Rachel parked her car near the front of our house and then ran over trying to avoid the rain. I needed to remind myself to give her wardrobe a makeover. She looked like she was getting ready for an annual knitting competition.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," she said sweetly. "Blaine, Kurt. Let's play ball!"

"Wear your seat belts, all of you!" Burt choked out.

Blaine opened the door for both of us. There was a quite a distance to the seat so Rachel had to be lifted in. I jumped and almost missed it, but Blaine had caught me with one hand. I hope Burt hadn't noticed. He was still standing by our door.

Blaine turned the key and the engine roared to life. We pulled away from the house.

"This is a… um… big Jeep you have." Rachel said admiringly.

"Thank you. It belongs to my brother, Puck."

I don't know how Blaine found his way in the rain, but we came across what seemed to be a mountain path. For a long while conversation with either him or Rachel was impossible, because Rachel and I were bouncing up and down on the seat like jackhammers and I could tell Rachel was enjoying it as much as I was - which meant we both hated it. Blaine seemed to enjoy the ride, though, smiling hugely the whole way.

And then we came to the end of the road; the trees formed green walls on three sides of the Jeep. The rain had become a mere drizzle, slowing every second, the sky becoming brighter through the clouds.

When we stopped, Rachel was the first out of the car. She looked at me with a too cheeky smile on her face. "I'm going to go find Mercedes. Give you two a little time to say hello to each other before the game starts…"

She winked at me and I had to remember to thank her later. I turned to Blaine. I still couldn't believe he had got her to tag along.

"Hi," I said, trying to sound confident but staggering slightly as I walked over to him.

"Hi," he said back, closing the space between us and placing his hands on my waist. "My name's Blaine."

"Kurt."

He gestured for my hand and then kissed the back of my palm slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. He paused for a second and then began a small trail of kisses past my hand and up my arm until he reached my shoulder, and then just past my ear, his cool breath inviting. He kissed me again just below my earlobe and then slowly down towards and across my cheek, stopping just at the corner of my mouth.

He then took my face in his hands almost roughly, and kissed me in earnest, his unyielding lips moving against mine. I kissed him back passionately throwing my arms over his neck and sucking his bottom lip. He moaned.

"Damn it, Kurt!" he broke off, gasping. "You'll be the death of me, I swear you will."

I leaned over, bracing my hands against my knees for support. "I thought you said you were indestructible?" I mumbled, trying to catch my breath.

"That seems to now only apply to the time before I met you. C'mon, let's get out of here. I know a shortcut."

We hadn't been walking very long but the ground was so muddy that I had only walked three or four steps before I slid embarrassingly and fell to the ground. Huffed, I picked myself up, as I brushed the mud and bracken off the back of my jacket. He was laughing at me.

"Your reflexes take a vacation did they?" I asked. "And you wondered why this wardrobe choice was so difficult for me to make… You would have totally had to compensate me if I had damaged anything more expensive!"

That only made him laugh harder. Annoyed, I began to stride off into the forest but it wasn't long before I felt his arm around my waist.

"Do you even know where you're going, Kurt?"

"Yes, I do thank you! To watch a baseball game! I won't even be bothered if you don't come. I'm sure the others will have fun without you."

"Well at least I'll make it there. _You're_ going the wrong way." I turned around without looking at him, and stalked off in the opposite direction. He caught up to me quickly and caught my waist again.

"Don't be mad, I couldn't help myself. You should have seen your face." He chuckled before he could stop himself.

"Oh trust me, I'm not mad… Hey! Did I tell you the time I used to make mud pies as a kid?"

Blaine looked at me curiously as I crouched down playing with the dirt I had just detested not even moments ago.

"No… I don't think you mentioned that particular story."

"No? Well, in that case I think you should try one!"

This time Blaine's reflexes were in full swing. I threw the mud at him and he held his arms up to catch the wet ball of dirt but as mud wasn't something that could simply be caught, it exploded when it landed on him, bursting into a dirty mess all over his checkered sweater.

He looked down at the spoiled sweater and then up at me; his mouth was aghast. "This was Ralph Polo."

I shrugged, "Yeah but the design you're wearing is so last year. Actually, I think I like it better now."

His mouth was a flat line stretched across his perfect face as he stared at me. As the corners of his mouth began to twitch, he broke out into a goofy smile.

A goofy, adorable, silly, mischievous smile.

"Blaine? Blaine, what are you-?"

He pounced.

I fell backwards landing on my back into the mud. I could feel the exact moment it completely nestled in and ruined my hair. Blaine was on top of me, laughing harder than I had ever seen him before. To my benefit he was distracted enough that when I pushed him off me, he wasn't resisting me like he did with his usual strength, which meant that I was able to get him on his back in the mud.

He laughed even more.

I joined him.

I'd been straddling his hips to secure him into place but my ribs were hurting from laughing so much so that I had to lie on his chest while the laughter subsided.

"I love you," he said. "And not because we just had such a sexy mud fight. I just… do."

It was the first time he'd said he loved me — or at least using those three precise words. He might not realize it, but I certainly did.

"I love you, too."

"Now, please try to behave yourself," he continued, and he bent to softly brush his lips against mine. "My whole family will be there. And Rachel."

"Ugh. Blaine, the romantic moment is gone. Thank God I brought spare clothes in your Jeep."

"Yes, that was a good thing. I will never question your ability to predict when a change of clothes is needed ever again."

After I'd changed, (Blaine too had changed his sweater and fixed his hair), he led me a few feet through the tall, wet ferns and draping moss, around a massive hemlock tree, and we were there, on the edge of an enormous open field in the lap of the Olympic peaks. It was twice the size of any baseball stadium.

I could see the others all there; Emma, Puck, Quinn and Sam, sitting on a bare outcropping of rock, were the closest to us, maybe a hundred yards away. Much farther out I could see Rachel and Mercedes, talking and laughing. It looked like Will was marking bases, but they were a lot further apart than they usually were in baseball. Even _I_ knew that. I wondered how they were going to explain this to Rachel without ruining their secret.

Emma started toward us. Puck followed after a long look at Quinn's back; Quinn had risen gracefully and strode off toward the field without a glance in our direction. My stomach quivered uneasily in response.

"Was that you we heard, Blaine?" Emma asked as she approached.

"It sounded like a bear choking," Puck clarified.

I smiled hesitantly at Emma. "That was him."

"Kurt was being unintentionally funny," Blaine explained, quickly settling the score.

Mercedes had left Rachel and was running, or dancing, toward us. She hurtled to a fluid stop at our feet. "It's time," she announced.

"Wait!" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me, "How have you explained this to Rachel?"

"You'll see…" Mercedes winked. As soon as she spoke, a deep rumble of thunder shook the forest beyond us, and then crashed westward toward town.

"Eerie, isn't it?" Puck said with easy familiarity, winking at me.

"Let's go." Mercedes reached for Puck's hand and they darted toward the oversized field; she ran like a gazelle. He was nearly as graceful and just as fast — yet Puck could never be compared to a gazelle.

"Are you ready for some ball?" Blaine asked, his eyes eager, bright.

I tried to sound appropriately enthusiastic. "Go team!"

He snickered and, after mussing my hair, bounded off after the other two. Rachel soon caught up to me.

"Jesus, Kurt! What happened to your hair? And did you change your clothes?"

I nodded cheekily, "I sort of slipped into the mud and long story short – Blaine told me he loved me!"

She squealed and then clasping her hands with mine, we jumped up and down on the spot like two freshman girls gushing over One Direction.

"Shall we go down?" Emma asked her voice quiet and I forgot she had been standing so close. I quickly reassembled and nodded. Emma kept a few feet between us, and I wondered if she was just being careful given that Rachel and I were two too many humans. She matched her stride to mine without seeming impatient at the pace.

"Don't you play, Mrs. Cullen?" Rachel asked.

"No, I prefer to referee — I like keeping them honest," she explained. "Psychology's what I'm best at."

"Do they like to cheat, then?" I should have guessed.

"Oh yes — you should hear the arguments they get into! Actually, I hope you don't, you would think they were raised by a pack of wolves."

"You sound like my mom," I laughed, surprised. "I still remember everything about her. I can't believe she's gone." Rachel gave me a sincere look as if to ask me what was wrong.

"Well, this is nice and all," I answered her silent question, "but it hurts at the same time – wait, does that make sense?"

"It does," Rachel said gripping my hand, "It only just happened before you moved here -we can both understand why that still hurts. But you can talk about it you know."

I gently squeezed Rachel's hand back.

Emma looked over at the gesture. "I'm so sorry to hear about your mother, Kurt. I know our situations aren't the same but I guess my pain is in reverse… did Blaine tell you I had lost a child?"

"No," I murmured, stunned, scrambling to understand what lifetime she was remembering. Rachel looked over to me and clearly she was remembering the story she had told me of Emma when I had first met her. She looked sorry for it now. Emma didn't seem to notice her guilt. She stopped then; apparently, we'd reached the edge of the field. It looked as if they had formed teams. Blaine was far out in left field, Will stood between the first and second bases, and Mercedes held the ball, positioned on the spot that must be the pitcher's mound.

Puck was swinging an aluminum bat; it whistled almost untraceably through the air. I waited for him to approach home plate, but then I realized, as he took his stance, that he was already there — farther from the pitcher's mound than I would have thought possible.

I was more worried about Rachel's reaction to this more so than anything else, but she leaned over to me and in my ear whispered, "It's a super advanced form of baseball. Very exclusive. Only the elite play it per these rules. Naturally, that's why the Cullens adopted it."

I nodded; Mercedes obviously had a way of words if Rachel had gone so far to believe her.

Sam stood several feet behind Puck, catching for the other team. Of course, none of them needed gloves but were wearing them for Rachel's sake.

"All right," Emma called in a clear loud voice, which I knew even Blaine would hear, as far out as he was. "Batter up."

Mercedes was the first to pitch. She held the ball in both hands at her waist, and then, like the players I briefly saw Burt watch on TV, her right hand flicked out and the ball smacked straight into Sam's hand.

"Was that a strike?" I whispered to Rachel.

She paused, "I guess so… Mrs. Cullen?"

"If they don't hit it, it's a strike," she explained.

Sam hurled the ball back to Mercedes' waiting hand. She permitted herself a brief grin. And then her hand spun out again.

This time the bat somehow made it around in time to smash into the invisible ball. The crack of impact was shattering, thunderous; it echoed off the mountains — I immediately understood the necessity of the thunderstorm.

The ball shot like a meteor above the field, flying deep into the surrounding forest.

"Home run," I murmured.

"Wait," Emma cautioned, listening intently, one hand raised. Puck was a blur around the bases, even if he wasn't running as fast as I knew he would be capable of without Rachel here. Will was shadowing Puck intently. I realized Blaine was missing.

"Out!" Emma cried in a clear voice. Rachel and I stared in disbelief as Blaine sprang from the fringe of the trees, ball in his upraised hand, his wide grin visible even to me.

"Puck hits the hardest," Emma explained, "but Blaine runs the fastest." The inning continued before our incredulous eyes. It was barely possible to keep up with the speed of the ball and the players. Rachel didn't watch too much baseball of her own on TV so she naturally assumed the Cullens were just mightily talented. We were enjoying ourselves but our conversation was also rather riveting and I was glad she was there to share this with.

I learned the other reason they waited for a thunderstorm to play when Sam, trying to avoid Blaine's infallible fielding, hit a ground ball toward Will. Will ran into the ball, and then raced Sam to first base. When they collided, the sound was like the crash of two massive falling boulders. I jumped up in concern, but they were somehow unscathed. Rachel had her hand over her mouth but then she was clapping.

"Safe!" Emma called in a calm voice.

Puck's team was up by one — Quinn managed to flit around the bases after tagging up on one of Puck's long flies — when Blaine caught the third out. He jogged over to see Rachel and me.

"What do you think guys?" he asked.

"One thing's for sure," I started, "I'll never be able to sit through dull old Major League Baseball again."

"And it sounds like you did _so_ much of that before," he laughed.

"I agree!" Rachel said, and I hit her shoulder playfully.

"I'm up," Blaine said, heading for the plate.

He played intelligently, keeping the ball low, out of the reach of Quinn's always-ready hand in the outfield, gaining two bases like lightning before Puck could get the ball back in play. Will knocked one so far out of the field that he and Blaine both made it in. Mercedes slapped them dainty high fives.

The score constantly changed as the game continued, and they razzed each other like any street ballplayers as they took turns with the lead.

Occasionally Emma would call them to order. The thunder rumbled on, but we stayed dry, as Mercedes had predicted despite the small downpour in the car over on the way here.

Rachel and I were in the midst of a heated discussion when Mercedes suddenly gasped. I saw Blaine's eyes immediately magnetize towards her. Rachel and I shared a look and I could tell she was just as worried as I was. I might be in on the secret but how was Blaine going to explain this to Rachel?

Rachel and I had caught up to her but I knew just from looking at her that something was very wrong

"Mercedes?" Rachel's voice was tense.

"I didn't see — I couldn't tell," she whispered.

All the others had joined us. I grabbed Rachel's hand and Blaine was already by my side.

"What is it, Mercedes?" Will asked with the calm voice of authority.

"They were traveling much quicker than I thought. I can see I had the perspective wrong before," she murmured.

I turned to Rachel but she didn't look even the mildest bit surprised. I tried to catch her gaze but she wouldn't look at me.

Sam leaned over Mercedes, his posture protective. "What changed?" he asked.

"They heard us playing, and it changed their path," she said, contrite, as if she felt responsible for whatever had frightened her.

Seven pairs of quick eyes flashed to Rachel and me before turning away.

"How soon?" Will said, turning toward Blaine. A look of intense concentration crossed my boyfriend's face as they both turned to Mercedes.

"Less than five minutes," she said, "They're running — they want to play." He scowled.

"Can you make it?" Will asked him, his eyes flicking toward me and Rachel again.

"No, I —" He cut short. "Besides, the last thing we need is for them to catch the scent and start hunting."

At this, I was definitely sure they couldn't cover anything from Rachel now. I stood right in front of her, forcing her to look at me. But she sighed.

"It's okay, Kurt. I know. Mercedes and I have been friends since freshman year. Having a common interest in amazing singers will cause friendships as close as ours."

"But… how… I…" I spluttered but there was no time for my new found discovery.

"How many?" Puck asked Mercedes.

"Three," she answered tersely.

"Three!" Puff scoffed. "Fine, let them come." The steel bands of muscle flexed along his massive arms. "They don't stand a chance against these guns!" He kissed his biceps quickly. I saw Quinn roll her eyes.

For a split second that seemed much longer than it really was, Will deliberated. Only Puck seemed unperturbed; the rest stared at Will's face with anxious eyes.

"Let's just continue the game," Will finally decided. His voice was cool and level. "Mercedes said they were simply curious."

All this was said in a flurry of words that lasted only a few seconds. I had listened carefully and caught most of it, though I couldn't hear what Emma now asked Blaine with a silent vibration of her lips. I only saw the slight shake of his head and the look of relief on her face.

"You catch, Emma," Blaine said. "I'll call it now." And he planted himself in front of me and Rachel.

The others returned to the field, warily sweeping the dark forest with their sharp eyes. Mercedes and Emma seemed to orient themselves around where Rachel and I stood.

"Take your hair down," Blaine whispered to Rachel in a low, even voice. She obediently slid the rubber band out of her hair and shook it out around me. Blaine started fussing with her hair but Mercedes was doubtful.

"That won't help," she said softly. "I could smell them both from across the field."

Will stood at the plate, and the others joined the game halfheartedly.

"What did Emma ask you?" I whispered to Blaine.

He hesitated for a second before he answered. "Whether they were thirsty," he muttered unwillingly.

The seconds ticked by but the game progressed with apathy now. No one dared to hit too hard, and Puck, Quinn, and Sam hovered in the infield, their heart no longer in the game. I wasn't as scared as I should be, not with Blaine here, not knowing that I wouldn't have to hide anything from Rachel anymore. Sharing my secret with her made me feel stronger and I couldn't be scared for myself because I had to be strong for her. She might have been a pain in the ass but outside of Blaine and his family she and I were pretty close.

Now and again, I was surprisingly aware of Quinn's eyes on Rachel and me. They were expressionless, but something about the way she held her mouth made me think she was angry.

Blaine paid no attention to the game at all, eyes and mind ranging the forest.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," he muttered fiercely. "It was stupid, irresponsible, to expose you and Rachel like this. I'm so sorry." I heard his breath stop, and his eyes zeroed in on right field. He took a half step, angling himself between me and what was coming.

Will, Puck, and the others turned in the same direction, hearing approaching footsteps much too faint for Rachel or I to hear.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Thanks for reading and please review - I'd love to know what you think of the changes I made! The next chapter's only about three-thousand words so it should be out a lot sooner than you had to wait for this! And we finally meet our nomads! Can anyone guess who they are?

**yaoilover**: I'm still working on your prompt. It's only going to be a one-shot but I'm still working on it! ;) I haven't forgotten you or your loyalty! :)


	20. Chapter 18: The Hunt

**A/N: **I'm so glad people are still reading this – I was worried that you might have stopped checking for updates because I know I'm not the best uploader. I just want y'all to know that I haven't forgotten this little story and I truly appreciate the support. Thank you so much for reading!

Chapter Eighteen – **The Hunt**

The three of them appeared quite suddenly from within the edge of the forest, strutting towards us like they were paid to be displaying the new Abercrombie and Finch range, except their clothes were extremely outdated - and torn. The first male, much darker skinned than the second, came into the clearing first but fell back immediately and allowed a second male to take the front, in a manner that clearly displayed who led the pack. The third was also a man but he seemed much more boyish than the others.

As they came closer, I could see how different they were from Blaine and his family. Their walk was too wild; not nearly as runway professional as Quinn's for instance. They had absolutely no sense of fashion and all three men looked like they had never had their hair styled by a professional. I shuddered at the horror of such a fate.

Their sharp eyes carefully took in the more polished, urban stance of Will, who, guarded carefully by Puck and Sam, stepped forward to meet them.

The man in front, the leader, easily caught the eyes of everyone around him - but most especially Rachel's. He was cute though not in a way I found attractive and I was glad that his vampire charm had no effect on me. He had light brown untamed curly hair and an extremely boyish charm and despite his untamed nature, (there were leaves in his hair), he still looked like he belonged on Broadway. He was of a medium build, hard-muscled, of course, but nothing next to Puck. He smiled an easy smile, exposing a flash of gleaming white teeth. I heard Puck snort.

The second male, the much darker one, looked stern and serious but also like he had just graduated from prep school. He was wearing a faded tie and an even more faded blazer though his pants had rough edges and were frayed right to his ankles. The third male hovered unobtrusively behind them, slightly taller than the leader, his light brown hair and regular slightly freckled features both nondescript. He looked like a preppy private schoolboy. His eyes, though completely still, somehow seemed the most vigilant and even a little excited.

As a group their eyes were a lot different than Blaine's family. Not the gold or black I was used to, but a deep burgundy red color that was disturbing and sinister.

The darker one, still smiling, stepped toward Will.

"We thought we heard a game," he said in a relaxed voice with the slightest of accents. "I'm David, this is Jesse St. James," he gestured towards the leader as he said Jesse's name, "and Sebastian Smythe."

Blaine's dad cleared his throat. "Nice to meet you, David. I'm Will and this is my family, Puck and Sam, Quinn, Emma and Mercedes, Blaine, Kurt and Rachel." He pointed us out in groups, deliberately not calling attention to individuals. I felt a shock and a small sense of pride when he said both my name and Rachel's.

"Do you have room for a few more players?" Jesse asked sociably. He too had a slight accent.

Will matched Jesse's friendly tone. "Actually, we were just finishing up. But we'd certainly be interested another time. Are you planning to stay in the area for long?"

"We're headed north, in fact, but we were curious to see who was in the neighborhood. We haven't run into any company in a long time."

The tense atmosphere had slowly subsided into a casual conversation; I guessed that Sam was using his peculiar gift to control the situation.

"What's your hunting range?" Jesse casually inquired.

Will ignored the fact that Jesse had practically asked whereabouts did they suck humans dry. "The Olympic Range here, up and down the Coast Ranges on occasion. We keep a permanent residence nearby. There's another permanent settlement like ours up near Denali."

David rocked back on his heels slightly as Will answered."Permanent? How do you manage that?" There was honest curiosity in his voice.

"Why don't you come back to our home with us and we can talk comfortably? It's a rather long story."Jesse and Sebastian exchanged a surprised look at the mention of the word "home," but David controlled his expression better.

"That sounds very interesting." His smile was genial. "We've been on the hunt all the way down from Ontario, and we haven't had the chance to clean up in a while." His eyes moved appreciatively over Will's refined appearance.

"With all due respect David, we'd appreciate it if you and your party refrain from hunting in this immediate area. We have to stay inconspicuous, you understand."

"Of course." David nodded. "We certainly won't rain on your parade. We just ate outside of Seattle, anyway," he laughed but something about his choice of words sent a shiver up my spine.

"We'll show you the way if you'd like to run with us — Puck and Mercedes, you can go with Blaine, Kurt and Rachel to get the Jeep," Will casually added. The nomads agreed and we started to part. I immediately relaxed. More than anything, I was worried about Rachel's safety.

But everything was fine until it wasn't. Three things seemed to happen simultaneously that shook the balance of events.

Rachel's hair ruffled with the light breeze, Blaine stiffened, and the second male, Jesse, suddenly whipped his head around, scrutinizing her, his nostrils flaring.

Jesse stepped forward into a crouch. Blaine bared his teeth, crouching in defense, a feral snarl ripping from his throat.

It was nothing like the playful sounds I'd heard from him this morning; it was the single most menacing thing I had ever heard, and chills ran from the crown of my head to the back of my heels.

"What's this?" David exclaimed in open surprise. Neither Jesse nor Blaine relaxed their aggressive poses. Jesse feinted slightly to the side, and Blaine shifted in response.

"Rachel's with us." Will's firm rebuff was directed toward Jesse.

David seemed to catch Rachel's scent less powerfully than Jesse, but awareness now dawned on his face.

"You brought a snack?" he asked, his expression incredulous as he took an involuntary step forward.

And then he turned to me.

"And more than one…"

Blaine snarled even more ferociously, harshly, his lip curling high above his glistening, bared teeth.

Jesse smiled, "Relax, I have no interest in your boy toy. But this fine lady…"

I couldn't be too sure if I was imagining it but the one named Sebastian suddenly flashed a look of jealously at Jesse's sudden interest in Rachel.

"I said she's with us," Will corrected in a hard voice.

"But she's _human_!" Jesse protested. The words were not at all aggressive, merely astounded.

"Yes."

Puck was very much at Will's side, his eyes on Jesse. Jesse slowly straightened out of his crouch, but his eyes never left Rachel, his nostrils still wide. Blaine stayed tensed like a lion in front of me. Sebastian seemed even tenser. Looks like I wasn't imagining things then – he was most definitely jealous.

When David spoke, his tone was soothing — trying to defuse the sudden hostility. "It appears we have a lot to learn about each other."

Will's voice was still cool. "I guess we do."

David continued, "But we'd like to accept your invitation." His eyes flicked toward me and Rachel and back to Will. "And, of course, we will not harm the human girl or boy. We won't hunt in your range, as I said."

Jesse glanced in disbelief and aggravation at David and exchanged another brief look with Sebastian, whose eyes still flickered edgily from face to face.

Will measured David's open expression for a moment before he spoke.

"We'll show you the way. Sam, Quinn, Emma?" he called. They gathered together, blocking me and Rachel from view as they converged. Mercedes was instantly at Rachel's side, and Puck fell back slowly, his eyes locked on Jesse as he backed toward us.

"Let's go, Kurt." Blaine's voice was low and bleak. I wasn't scared but the conversation that had taken place had me frozen into immobility. Blaine had to grip my elbow and pull sharply to break my trance. Mercedes seemed to be having a similar situation with Rachel and had to shake her out of her stunned silence too. I wish Blaine could tell me what Rachel was thinking. She may be annoying but I was really worried about her.

Puck was close behind us, hiding us best he could. With his size it wasn't hard but I was too stunned to walk straight and I stumbled alongside Blaine. I couldn't hear if the main group had left yet. Blaine's impatience was almost tangible as we moved to the forest edge.

Once we were amongst the trees, Rachel and I were separated. I jumped up on Blaine's back securely and Rachel gracefully climbed onto Mercedes'.

After a short run through the forest, we had reached two cars; Blaine had settled me in the black Jeep and it appeared that Rachel was going with Mercedes.

"Strap Kurt in," he ordered Puck, who slid in beside me.

Mercedes was already in the front seat of her car and Blaine was starting the engine on the Jeep. It roared to life and we swerved backward, spinning around to face the winding road. I couldn't understand exactly what Blaine was saying because he was speaking so fast to Puck but it definitely sounded like he was swearing.

The journey back was much bumpier this time as Blaine drover faster than he had before. Beside Puck's Jeep, was Mercedes in her car with Sam. Rachel was sitting silently in the back of their car.

We hit the main road, and though our speed increased ever further, I could still see where we were going. And we were headed south - away from Forks.

"Where exactly are you taking us Blaine?" I asked.

But he didn't answer. He didn't even look at me.

"Dammit, Blaine! Where are you taking us?"

"We have to get you away — both of you far away from here — and it must be done now." He didn't look back, his eyes on the road. The speedometer read a hundred and five miles an hour.

"No! Turn around right this instant, Blaine Cullen! You have to take me home!" I was shouting. I struggled with the stupid harness that Puck had strapped me into, tearing at the straps.

"Puck," Blaine said grimly, almost worn.

And Puck secured my hands in his steely grasp.

"No! Blaine! No, you can't do this! I won't let you! Take me home now!"

"I have to, Kurt, now please be quiet."

"I won't! You have to take me back! Burt will call the FBI! They'll be all over your family! They'll have to leave, to hide forever!"

"Calm down, Kurt!" His voice was cold. "We've been in trouble with the police before, nothing we can't handle."

"Not over me, you haven't! You're not ruining everything over me!" I struggled violently, with total futility. "And I'm not leaving until I say bye to Burt, until I know he's safe!"

"You knew what you were getting into with me!" Blaine argued, "Don't do this!"

"And what about Rachel, huh? The poor thing is lying frightened as all hell in the back of your sister's car! I won't let you do this to her! And I refuse to go anywhere with you till you let me speak to my father!"

"Kurt, I can't!" he said stubbornly.

"No!" I protested back. "Turn around now!"

Just then, Mercedes caught up to Blaine, speeding just as fast as he was, her window rolled down. "Blaine, c'mon, pull over boo." He flashed her a hard look, and then sped up.

Bu it wasn't long before she caught up with him again, "Don't make me use your full name boy! I _said_ pull over! Let's just talk this through!"

"You don't understand!" he roared in frustration. I'd never heard his voice so loud; it was deafening in the confines of the Jeep. The speedometer neared one hundred and fifteen. He continued to yell out the window. "He's a tracker, Mercedes! Did you hear me? He's a tracker! These two don't stand a chance!"

I felt Puck stiffen next to me, and I wondered at his reaction to the word, 'tracker'. It meant something more to the three of them than it did to me or Rachel. I wanted to understand, but there was no opening for me to ask.

"Boo, I believe I just asked you to pull over. Twice. Don't make me ask you again." Mercedes' tone was reasonable, but there was a ring of authority in it I'd never heard before.

The speedometer inched passed one-twenty.

"_Blaine Devon Anderson Cullen_!"

"Listen to me, Mercedes! I saw his mind. Tracking is his passion, his obsession — and he wants her, Rachel, specifically. He's going to begin his hunt _tonight_."

"He doesn't know where —"

"How long do you think it will take him to cross her scent in town?" Blaine interrupted, "He didn't give a damn what David had to say – he wants to claim Rachel!"

I gasped, "Are you for real?" I asked him waiting for his slight nod before speaking again, "But that's insane! Jesse St James totally Jesse St sucks!"

I knew in my heart of hearts there was only one place Rachel's scent would lead…

"My dads!" Rachel exclaimed in shock, "You can't leave them there without guards! You can't!" She began to go crazy in the back seat, but just like I had Puck holding me down, she had Sam holding her.

"She's right," Mercedes said. "Burt neither, since they're probably going to go after Kurt too."

"No, no, no, not my dad!" I protested. "Blaine, no, please, he's all I have left! And his heart will… You can't do this!"

The car slowed slightly.

"Let's look at our options Blainey," Mercedes coaxed, as well as she could from inside another car. "It'll only take a minute at most."

The Jeep slowed again this time, more noticeably actually, and then suddenly we screeched to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. I flew against the harness, and then slammed back into the seat. Mercedes stopped too, parked right alongside Blaine.

"There are no other options!" Blaine hissed.

"I'm not leaving Burt!" I said, yelling again.

"And I'm not leaving my parents - or Lima!" Rachel agreed. "I'm a star here! People will miss me!"

He ignored us both completely.

"We have to take them back bro," Puck finally spoke. "I can't take these kids away from their dads. I'm too soft for that kind of torture."

"No." Blaine was absolute.

"He's no match for us, Blaine. He won't be able to touch either of them."

"But he'll wait."

Puck smiled. "Let him. I can wait, too."

"No," Blaine repeated. "I won't put you in that kind of danger, Noah! You're my brother! Besides, you didn't see so you don't understand. Once a tracker commits to a hunt, he's unshakable. We'd have to kill Jesse St James."

Puck didn't seem too upset by this idea. "Now there's a plan I can live with. I've been itching for a fight. Let me at him."

"But we wouldn't just have to kill Jesse! We'd have to kill Sebastian too! They're _together - _if it weren't already obvious by the jealousy I saw dripping off Sebastian's face when Jesse looked at Rachel. You know what'll mean to a vampire if we kill its partner – seething revenge."

Puck shrugged, "Whatevs. More fun going after two vamps anyway! It gets my Buffy groove on. And besides, there are enough of us to hold them off easily." Puck stated. "And I could easily take 'em both on my own, c'mon!"

"Let it go, Puck!" Blaine snarled angrily, "I said no!"

"There's another option," Mercedes said quietly.

Blaine turned on her in fury, his voice an intense scowl. "There — is —no — other — option!" Puck and I both stared at him in shock, but Mercedes seemed unsurprised.

The silence lasted for a long minute as Blaine and Mercedes stared each other down. I broke it. "Does anyone want to hear _my_ plan?"

"No," Blaine growled, the same time Rachel and Mercedes said "Yes." Mercedes glared at Blaine, finally provoked.

"Listen," I pleaded. "You take me back –"

"No," he interrupted.

I glared at him and continued. "You take me back. Mercedes takes Rachel back. We tell our parents we're leaving for whatever reason. We pack our bags. We wait till this tracker is watching, and then we run. He'll follow us and leave Burt and Rachel's dads alone. Burt won't call the FBI on your family. Then you can take us any damned place you want."

They stared at me, stunned.

"Actually – I think the kid might have a point." Puck's surprise was definitely an insult. "Nice one, Swan."

"It might work — and it's not like we can leave their fathers unprotected. You know that boo…" Mercedes said.

Everyone looked at Blaine who looked almost beside himself with anger. "It's too dangerous — I don't want Jesse within a hundred miles of either of them!"

Puck was supremely confident given Blaine's mood. "Bro, he's not getting through me… or us… but mainly me. Guns of steel, remember?"

Mercedes thought for a minute, her eyes closed, concentrating. "I don't see him attacking. He'll try to wait for us to leave Rachel alone. He wants her first."

I shuddered. Blaine was still shaking. "It won't take long for him to realize that we're not leaving Rachel and Kurt alone."

"I demand that you take us home!" I tried to sound firm.

Blaine pressed his fingers to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Please?" I said in a much smaller voice.

He didn't look up. When he spoke to me, his voice sounded tired.

"Okay… here's what's happening. You and Rachel are leaving tonight, whether Jesse sees you leave or not. You tell Burt that you're leaving with whatever story works. Pack the first things your hands touch, and then get in your truck, Kurt. I don't care what Burt says to you. You have fifteen minutes. Do you hear me? Fifteen minutes from the time you cross the doorstep."

The Jeep rumbled to life. Mercedes turned on her engine.

"Puck?" I asked, looking pointedly at my hands.

"Oh, sorry." He let me loose.

Blaine spoke again."Right so when we get to Kurt's house, if Jesse is not already there, I will walk Kurt to the door. Then he has fifteen minutes." He glared at me in the rearview mirror.

"Puck, you take the outside of the house. Mercedes, you and Sam take Rachel back to her place. I'll be inside as long as Kurt is. After we're out, you and I will meet and tell Will what's happening."

"Hang on a sec," Puck said. "I ain't just gonna guard the house, I'm staying with you, bro. I ain't going to be nowhere else."

Blaine sighed. "Think it through, Puck. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"Bro, until we know how far this is going to go, I'm with you."

Blaine calculated things almost too calmly given his mood. "Okay, fine. Sam and Mercedes? If Jesse is at the Stanleys you keep driving. Do you think you'll be able to meet us with Rachel?"

She nodded. "We're going to make it to Rachel's before him," Mercedes said confidently.

Rachel ran over to my side of the car and threw her arms around me tightly. "I'll see you soon, Kurt," she whispered and then she was gone with Mercedes and Sam.

I watched her go, worried about her, but also worried about something else.

"…What am I going to say to my dad?"

Blaine didn't appear to hear me.

"You know what? I think you should let me go alone," I said even more quietly.

He heard _that_.

"Kurt, please just do this my way, just this once," he said between clenched teeth.

"Listen, Burt's not an idiot," I protested. "If you're not in town tomorrow, he's going to get suspicious."

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that we'll make sure he's safe."

"Then what about this Jesse tracker guy? He saw the way you acted tonight. He's going to know you're with me, wherever you are."

Puck looked at me, insultingly surprised again. "Blaine, I think you should listen to Kurt man," he urged. "I think he's actually right."

"Of course I am!" I agreed.

"I'm not leaving Kurt…" Blaine's voice was icy.

"Puck should stay, too," I continued ignoring Blaine's last comment. "He saw a lot of Puck and will figure Puck will be guarding me too."

"What?" Puck turned on me. "Now you're making no sense at all, Swan."

"All I'm saying is that you'll have a better chance at participating in the fight with Jesse you want so much if you stay…" I was trying to encourage Noah but it was hard while Blaine stared at me incredulously. "You're not going alone, Kurt."

I tried to be more persuasive. "Stay here in Forks for a week—" I saw his expression in the mirror and amended "— a few days. Let Burt see you haven't kidnapped me, and lead this Jesse on a wild-goose chase. Make sure he's completely off my trail. Then come and meet me."

I could see him beginning to consider it. Oh, the power of Hummel-Swan persuasion.

"Meet you where?" Blaine asked.

"Lima. I'll be with Sam and Mercedes and Rachel. I'll be okay."

"No," Blaine argued, just when I thought I'd finally got him to agree. "He'll hear that Lima's where you're going," he said impatiently.

"And you'll make it look like that's a ruse, obviously. He'll know that we'll know that he's listening. He'll never believe I'm actually going where I say I am going."

"Kurt's diabolical," Puck chuckled. "I like it."

"And what if that doesn't work?" Blaine asked resignedly.

"There are a lot of people in Lima," I informed him. "And we're quite old enough to get our own place."

"I kind of like it." Puck was thinking about cornering Jesse, no doubt.

"Shut up, Puck." Blaine said.

Puck snorted, a little angry. "Hey, watch it! Don't tell me to shut up, Blainey! Look man, if we try to take him down while Rachel and Kurt are still around, there's a much better chance that one of them will get hurt — or maybe even _you_ will, trying to protect them. Now, if we get him alone…" He trailed off with a slow smile. "Then I can take him on singularly and… HULK. SMASH." He pounded his fists together menacingly but excitedly too. Blaine didn't say anything else.

The Jeep was crawling slowly along now as we drove into town. Despite my brave talk, I could feel the hairs on my arms standing up. I thought about Burt, alone in the house with Carole, and tried to be courageous.

_Courage_.

"Kurt…?" Blaine's voice was very soft. Puck looked up as well. "If you let anything happen to yourself— _anything_ at all — I'm holding you personally responsible. Do you understand that?"

"That's a pretty lousy expectation," I told him, "But yes."

He turned to Puck.

"Do you think Sam can handle this?"

"Give him some credit, Blaine. He's been doing very, very well, all things considered."

"Can _you_ handle this?" he asked.

Puck let out a roar of laughter. Blaine smiled. "Okay fine. But keep your opinions to yourself," he muttered suddenly.

A/N: In this chapter I got rid of the frightened weak Bella who yelled at her boyfriend once and then let it go when he got angry and replaced it with strong sassy Kurt who loves Blaine, yes, but also loves Rachel and Burt and that love influenced his behavior, actions and words in this chapter. I loved writing Puck in this because he's so laid back and Blaine is so strung with worry while Mercedes is halfway and Sam was silent trying to keep his composure human around the humans.

I would really appreciate it if you left me a review or some sort of message to let me know what you think because really guys they are all that keeps this story going!

Thank you so much for all the support, its' truly appreciated!

- paperstylehearts


	21. Chapter 19: Goodbyes

**A/N: **

No real notes for this chapter. Just my continued thanks to each and every one of you for continuing to read! I know some of you weren't keen to see Rachel here but trust me she is pivotal to Kurt's story. Reviews are extremely appreciated!

Chapter Nineteen – **Goodbyes**

When we arrived home, I wasn't surprised to see that Burt was up waiting for me. All the house lights were on which was a total giveaway but my mind drew a blank as I scrambled to think of what reason I could possibly give Burt that I was leaving.

"Jesse isn't here," I heard Blaine say to Puck, "Help Kurt out of his seat."

Puck reached over to help me. "Don't worry man. We'll take care of things around here."

I felt a surge of warmth towards Puck in that moment. We barely even knew each other and the fact that he was willing to help both me and Rachel was overwhelming. I knew saying bye to him was only a taste of what was about to come but it didn't help in the slightest.

Puck disappeared into the darkness surrounding the house. Blaine opened my car door and took my hand then brought me swiftly to the front of my house.

"Fifteen minutes," Blaine said. "That's all we have." He looked a little impatient but I could easily read the sadness written on his face too. I nodded in response and took his face into my hands. "I love you," I told him. "I will always love you, despite anything that happens after now."

"Nothing is going to happen to you, Kurt," Blaine promised. "I won't let Jesse do anything to you. Or Rachel."

"Please keep Burt safe for me. And Carole and Finn too. If something happens I-"

"Don't talk like that – what you're thinking - it's not going to happen." I felt his lips quickly brush mine, "Hurry Kurt. We don't have much time."

I made another swift nod and then led myself into the house.

Sure as I had predicted, Burt was fighting sleep to make sure that I arrived back home in one piece. He was sitting in the lounge watching a game but his eyes were full of sleep.

"You're home," was all he said.

"And you're still up."

"Had to make sure that Cullen boy brought you back home in one piece. How was the game?"

"It was good… I mean, I got to spend a lot of time talking with Rachel but I'm sure the game was good too."

Burt yawned. "Well I'm glad you had fun, kiddo. But now that you're back I'm gonna hit the sack."

My heart was racing. It was now or never. I had to be fast or Burt was going to head up those stairs and I would lose the only opportunity in these too short fifteen minutes I had to tell him.

"Rachel's leaving Forks," I said casually.

At this Burt was shocked but not for the reason I was thinking. "She is? Does Finn know? Poor kid. Where's she off to anyway?"

I didn't have time to worry about the fact that Burt was only worried about how this was going to affect Finn. Sure, I may have had an ulterior motive with lying, but even if I had been telling the truth, Burt knew Rachel was my best friend – why wasn't he worried about how that was going to affect me?

"I have no idea if she's discussed it with Finn yet but she's going back to Lima," I told him, careful not to meet his eye. I hated lying to Burt.

But I had to keep him safe.

"Have you heard her sing, Dad? She's really talented but she's never going to make it anywhere here in _Washington_."

"I s'pose she really was that ambitious. Can't help feel bad for Finn though. When's she leaving?"

"Tonight." I told him, finally aware of where exactly I was going to take this. "And I'm going with her."

Burt looked like he was about to laugh. "Is that so?"

"Dad, I'm being serious. I can't do this anymore. I can't have my talent stifled in the prison that you sentenced us to because you couldn't get over mom's death!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa hang on a second! I never forced you into nothing, Kurt! I never said we had to come here unless you were sure you wanted to. In fact, at the airport, the last I remember sayin' to you was we didn't _have_ to come here! But you just can't expect me to up and leave now 'cos you changed your mind! What about that Cullen kid then, eh? And what about Carole and Finn? They're family now Kurt."

"Don't you get it?" I said trying to increase the frustration in my voice. "I hate it here!"

Burt shook his head trying to make sense of where all this was coming from. "Did Blaine break up with you?"

"No!" I said angered, "I broke up with him."

My fifteen minutes were soon becoming five. I didn't have much time. I bolted up the stairs and it wasn't long before I could hear Burt coming right after me, ("Slow down, would ya? What's going on, Kurt?") I hurried open my bedroom door where Blaine was standing alone and serious, a duffel bag in his hand.

"Go," he whispered, and then he was gone.

"Kurt, open this door now! What the hell is up with you?"

I unlocked the door and pushed past Burt ignoring him as I made my way down the stairs again.

"Calm down, kid! Can't we just talk? I thought you liked this guy."

"I do!" I said, willing the tears to rim my eyes, "And that's the problem. I can't have any more ties here. I refuse to be stuck in this boring old town where I don't belong. I'm leaving – and you can't stop me."

Burt grabbed my elbow. His grip was firm but didn't hurt. "Kurt," he said quietly, and it was more painful listening to him talk like that then it would have to hear him shout. "At least sleep on it. It's dark outside and the roads ain't clear. Don't leave. If you still want to go in the morning I won't stop you but please son, don't do this."

This time when I cried, I wasn't faking it. "I have to. We've already booked our departure and we can't be late. I really, really, hate it here. I'll call you later. Goodbye, Dad."

I tried to push him off but he wouldn't let me go. He looked shocked, like he seriously couldn't believe what I was saying.

"Why didn't you talk to me about this? We're a family; we work out this stuff together! Why didn't you come to me sooner and tell me that this was how you were feeling? We could have done something to fix it! We can _still_ do something to fix it! Just don't leave Kurt, don't do this to me."

I felt like a broken record but there really was no other option. "It's too late Dad. Rachel is waiting for me, and I've made up my mind."

Burt shook his head. His hand was still holding my elbow. "I don't know what's going on Kurt, but this, it isn't you. It's not like you to just up and leave without talking to me…. So you walk through that door son, you're on your own. I don't want you coming home unless you bring my son back. Cos right now all the two of you share is a face and a name. My boy would have never left me like this."

"Dad…"

Burt let go of me as though he'd been burned. He stayed frozen on the doorstep unsure of the situation rapidly unfolding before him. I turned and ran wildly for the truck, throwing my bag in the back as I got into the driver's seat. The key was already waiting in the ignition.

"No, no, no you don't! Kurt get back here! Kurt!"

I ignored Burt, reversed, and kept driving. I could hear him yell my name but Burt didn't follow me. I half expected him to. I was so caught up worrying about my dad that I jumped when I felt Blaine's hand on me.

"Pull over," he said as the house, and Burt, disappeared behind us.

"I can drive," I said through the tears pouring down my cheeks.

"Are you sure?" Blaine asked. "Are you going to be able to find the house in the dark?"

"Yes! Goddamnit Blaine, just let me drive! It's all that's keeping me focused right now."

He didn't say another word.

"Where's Mercedes?" I asked him, suddenly remembering the plan.

"Behind us. Rachel is with her too in the back seat. Take it easy, Kurt."

He took my hand again trying to comfort me but my mind was filled with the image of Burt in the doorway. "And Jesse St. James?"

"He heard everything. He's following us too, running behind us."

I was driving with such earnest that when I felt a loud bang on the top of my roof I screamed and almost swerved. What in the world had just happened?

"Kurt, relax!" Blaine said, "It's just Puck."

I glanced in my mirror to see a smug Puck in the backseat. "Sorry about that," he said, raising his hand up and flattening the dent he had so easily molded onto my roof when he landed. "I thought Blaine would be driving."

"I'm not made out of glass!" I told him, "I know how to drive my damn truck!"

Puck grinned. "Feisty!" was all he said.

"It's okay, Kurt," Blaine assured me. "We know you're okay."

We raced through the quiet town toward the north highway. "So you're escaping Forks with Rachel to become a star?" I knew Blaine was just trying to diffuse the tension in the truck but my mind was in ten places at once.

"Burt knows I'm just as ambitious as her," I confessed, avoiding looking at him and keeping my eye on the road instead. "I really hurt him saying those things and leaving like that but I know he won't follow me. He's upset with me but he knows me and I guess he's always been a little scared that this was something I would do. But at the same time that's what prepared him for it. I don't think I'll be any less grounded when I return. You should have seen his face, Blaine."

"Don't worry. He'll forgive you." He smiled a little, though it didn't touch his eyes. He must have noticed something in mine because soon he was reassuring me again. "Kurt, it's going to be all right. Don't forget that this was your idea."

"It was the best idea — of course it was mine."His answering smile was bleak and disappeared immediately.

"I don't think I have any choice but to kill Jesse now," he muttered.

"Will won't like it," I answered. I could hear the tires cross the bridge, though I couldn't see the river in the dark. I knew we were getting close. There was something I had to ask.

"How do you kill a vampire?"

"The only way to be sure is to tear him to shreds, and then burn the pieces."

"And the other two will fight with him?"

"Sebastian will. I'm not sure about David. They don't have a very strong bond — he's only with them for convenience. He was embarrassed by Jesse in the meadow…"

"But Jesse and Sebastian — they'll try to kill you?" I asked my voice raw.

"Kurt, don't waste time worrying about me. Your only concern is keeping yourself safe and looking out for Rachel."

"Is Jesse still following?"

"Yes. He won't attack the house, though. Not tonight."

I turned off onto the invisible drive, with Mercedes and Rachel following behind. I drove right up to the house. Puck shielded me as I got out hurrying me to the front door; Mercedes guarded Rachel and brought her inside with us.

When we reached inside I was relieve to see all the Cullens waiting for us with one surprising addition: David stood in their midst. I could hear Puck mumbling a few swears as he sat me down next to Blaine. Mercedes sat Rachel beside me and she instinctively reached out for my hand. No words were exchanged between us but I could tell from the redness in her eyes that she had been crying miserably too. I wondered what she had told her dads.

"Jesse St James is tracking us," Blaine announced, glaring at David.

David looked a little pissed off. "I was afraid of that." Mercedes went over to Sam side and whispered in his ear; her lips quivered with the speed of her silent speech. They flew up the stairs together. It must have been hard for him to be around us.

Quinn watched them, and then moved quickly to Puck. Her beautiful eyes were intense and — when they flickered unwillingly to Rachel's face — furious.

"What will Jesse do?" Will asked David in chilling tones.

"I'm sorry," David answered. "I was afraid, when Blaine defended them, that it would set him off."

"Can you stop him?"

David shook his head. "Nothing stops Jesse when he gets started."

"We'll stop him," Puck promised. There was no doubt what he meant.

David snorted. "Your courage is amusing. I've never seen anyone win against Jesse. That's why I joined his coven."

He was shaking his head as he glanced at me and Rachel, perplexed, and back to Will. "Are you sure it's worth it?" Blaine took offense to this and made such a loud noise that David cringed.

Will looked gravely at David. "I'm afraid you're going to have to make a choice." David understood. He deliberated for a moment. His eyes took in every face, and finally swept the bright room.

"I'm intrigued by the life you've created here. But I won't get in the middle of this. I bear none of you any enmity, but I won't go up against Jesse. I think I will head north — to that Dalton clan." He hesitated. "Don't underestimate Jesse. He's unstoppable at what he does. He's every bit as comfortable in the human world as you seem to be, and he won't come at you head on… I'm sorry for what's been unleashed here. Truly sorry."

He bowed his head, but I saw him flicker another puzzled look at both Rachel and me.

"Go in peace," was Will's formal answer.

David took another long look around himself, and then he hurried out the door.

The silence lasted less than a second.

"How close?" Will looked at Blaine.

Emma was already moving; a gloved hand touched an inconspicuous keypad on the wall, and with a groan, huge metal shutters began sealing up the glass wall. I gaped.

"About three miles out past the river; he's circling around to meet up with Sebastian."

"What's the plan?"

"We'll lead Jesse off, and then Sam and Mercedes will run Sebastian south."

"And then?"

Blaine's tone was deadly. "As soon as Kurt and Rachel are clear, we hunt him."

"I guess there's no other choice," Will agreed, his face grim.

Blaine turned to Quinn.

"Get Rachel upstairs and trade clothes," Blaine commanded. She stared back at him with livid disbelief.

"Why should I?" she hissed. "What is she to me? Nothing but a danger you've chosen to inflict on all of us." I flinched back from the venom in her voice.

"Lucy…" Puck murmured, putting one hand on her shoulder. She shook it off.

"Don't call me that!" she snapped.

I was watching Blaine carefully, knowing his temper, worried about his reaction but he surprised me. He looked away from Quinn as if she hadn't spoken, as if she didn't exist.

"Emma?" he asked calmly.

"Of course," Emma murmured. "Come on Rachel."

As soon as they returned, Blaine and Puck were ready to leave. Puck was carrying a heavy-looking backpack over his shoulder. Will was handing something small to Emma.

He turned and handed Mercedes the same thing — it was a tiny silver cell phone.

"Emma and Quinn will be taking your truck, Kurt," he told me as he passed. I nodded, glancing warily at Quinn. She was glowering at Will with a resentful expression.

"Mercedes, Sam — take Rachel, Kurt, and the Benz. You'll need the dark tint in the south." They nodded as well.

"We're taking the Jeep." I was surprised to see that Will intended to go with Blaine. I realized suddenly, with a stab of fear that they made up the hunting party.

"Mercedes," Will asked, "will they take the bait?"Everyone watched Mercedes as she closed her eyes and became incredibly still.

Finally her eyes opened. "He'll track you. Sebastian will follow the truck. We should be able to leave after that." Her voice was certain.

"Let's go." Will began to walk toward the kitchen.

But Blaine was at my side at once. He held onto me tightly as if this was the last time he would ever see me again. He seemed unaware of his watching family as he pulled my face to his, kissing me intensely, my body between the car behind me and his chest. For the shortest second, his lips were icy and hard against mine but then everything about the kiss felt smooth and natural. Then it was over. He was still holding my face, his beautiful eyes burning into mine. And then he was gone.

The silent moment dragged on, and then Emma's phone vibrated in her hand.

It flashed to her ear.

"Now," she said. Quinn stalked out the front door without another glance in my direction, but Emma touched my cheek as she passed.

"Be safe." Her whisper lingered behind them as they slipped out the door.

I heard my truck start thunderously, and then fade away.

Sam and Mercedes waited; Mercedes' arms linked with Rachel's. It was probably a psychic thing but Mercedes' phone seemed to be at her ear before it buzzed.

"Blaine says Sebastian is on Emma's trail. I'll get the car." She vanished into the shadows the way Blaine had gone.

Sam and Rachel looked at each other. He was still standing his distance from her.

"You're wrong, you know," he said quietly to her.

"What?" she asked, choking out a small voice as her throat had dried up from crying.

"I can feel what you're feeling now — and you are worth it. You and Kurt."

"Of course Kurt is. But I'm not," she mumbled. "The world doesn't know who I am. My name's not lit up in stars just yet. Half of Forks hates me. I won't really be missed. Especially not after what I said to my dads."

"You're wrong," he repeated, smiling kindly at her. "And Finn will forgive you too."

"Stop that," Rachel said weakly.

"Stop what ma'am?"

"Reading my mind."

"Wrong Cullen. That's Blaine's gift, not mine. "

"You are most unusual, Sam Hale. But you're good to Mercedes so I'll allow you that."

"Well," he said then, "I'm so glad I have your approval."

For the first time since Jesse, I saw Rachel smile. I would have sworn Sam was being sarcastic and when he turned and winked at me, I knew he had been. He raised a finger to his lips as if to say it was only between the two of us. Well, whatever made Rachel feel better, I suppose.

I heard nothing, but then Mercedes stepped through the front door and came toward me with her arms held out.

"Kurt?" she asked.

I nodded.

She lifted me as easily as Puck had shielded me protectively, and then we flew out the door, leaving the Cullen's house behind us.


	22. Chapter 20: Impatience

**A/N: ** Hey guys I'm soooo sorry. I promise I'm not dead! I'm still here – I just haven't been very inspired to write lately and I apologize. I know you guys have been extremely patient so I'm going to make a solid attempt to try and update this more often.

Can you believe we are only five chapters away from the ending?! I can't! I really hope you enjoy this chapter and I really hope you all stick it out till the end. I can't wait to see what you think!

Chapter Twenty – **Impatience**

I awoke to find that we were in a cheap motel room. Mercedes was sitting by a window; she hadn't yet noticed I was awake. Sam was sitting by her side and they were talking much too quietly for me to hear anything. Not that I was really paying that much attention. To the right of me, on the bed, I noticed Rachel still very much asleep.

I didn't want to alert Sam and Mercedes that I had woken up just as yet so I thought of Forks. But all it reminded me was of Burt's broken expression, the way Blaine had looked when he had thought of Jesse, Quinn's resentment — the dead look in Blaine's eyes after he kissed me the last time… I couldn't stand to remember it. So I tried to focus positively. I wished Rachel would wake up. She could be incredibly distracting when she wanted to be and God knows I needed that right now.

We had done a whole week's worth of driving in three days despite the fact that Sam and Mercedes had stopped several times for Rachel and I to 'recharge'. I remember when we drove in this morning. Lima was exactly the same as when I had left it. I'd never thought that when I moved to Forks, that I would ever see Ohio again. Yet here it was in all its overstated glory.

"Hey Kurt," said Sam, noticing I was awake though I hadn't moved at all. My emotions running rampage must have been a dead giveaway for him with his ability. "Any idea how far the airport is from here?"

"Why?" I asked curiously, "Are we flying somewhere?"

"No, but it's better to be close, just in case." I gave Sam the directions to the Allen County airport and then sat up properly resting my head against the head board. Rachel stirred besides me but did not wake. She looked ridiculous in Emma's clothes but Berry never knew how to dress well anyway so it actually counted as an improvement.

Judging by the twenty-four hour digital clock on the nightstand it was three in the morning. I rose to meet Sam and Mercedes by the window and pulled back the drapes to look outside.

It was really dark. Our room overlooked out on a deserted section of the freeway. I looked down at myself and realized I couldn't remember the last time I had changed clothes. Grateful for the duffel bag Mercedes gestured her eyes towards, I headed towards the bathroom.

"You look like you could sleep longer," Mercedes said.

I just shook my head.

"Berry is still out of it."

This time I nodded. I still hadn't said anything.

Mercedes looked at me worriedly. "Okay, freshen up then. Maybe she'll be awake when you get out. I don't know how but he's eaten even less than you so she's bound to be hungry soon." She drifted silently back to the curtains and closed them securely before turning back to me. "We'll need to stay inside. I've already ordered some food for you; it's in the front room. Blaine reminded me that you guys have to eat a lot more frequently than we do."

I was instantly more alert. "Blaine called?"

"No," she said, and watched as my face fell. "He mentioned it before we left."

After my bathroom break, I felt fresher, awake. Rachel on the other hand still hadn't woken up. With all fairness, it _was_ three in the morning. I wasn't worried, just needy. And I felt like we had been doing nothing but sleeping.

I followed Mercedes into the living room of the motel. I could hear a low buzz of voices coming from the TV. Sam sat motionlessly at the desk in the corner, his eyes watching the actors intently while his lips moved silently. He turned to me, "I've seen these same actors in television for over forty years which means I can do some killer impressions – wanna hear?"

Needing something to distract myself I nodded. Mercedes laughed before Sam could even start. I had to admit it was highly entertaining. But the moment didn't last. My mind was too preoccupied.

I sat on the floor next to the coffee table, where a tray of food waited, and began picking at it without noticing what I was eating.

I ate slowly, watching Mercedes turning now and then to still laugh at Sam even though he had stopped. I thought that they were both distracted enough to gratefully lessen the attention on me but I was wrong.

"What's wrong, Kurt?"

"Nothing's wrong." The fact that I had stopped eating wasn't really backing up my theory. "I'm just not hungry. So what exactly are we waiting here for?"

"Well we're waiting for Will to call."

"And _should_ he have called by now?"

When she didn't answer, I felt worry grow in the pit of my stomach. "What does that mean?" My voice quavered, and I fought to control it. "Why hasn't called yet?"

"It just means that they don't have anything to tell us yet."

But her voice was too even, and the air was harder to breathe. Sam was suddenly beside Mercedes, closer to me than usual.

"Kurt," he said in a suspiciously soothing voice. "You have nothing to worry about. You and Rachel are completely safe here."

"I _know_ that."

"Then why are you frightened?" he asked, confused. He might feel the tenor of my emotions, but he couldn't read the reasons behind them.

"You heard what David said." My voice was just a whisper, but I was sure they could hear me." He said Jesse was _lethal_. What if something goes wrong, and they get separated? If something happens to any of them, Will, Puck… Blaine…" I gulped. "If Sebastian hurts Emma…" My voice had grown higher, a note of hysteria beginning to rise in it. "How could I live with myself when it's my fault? None of you should be risking yourselves for me —"

"Kurt, Kurt, stop," he interrupted me; his words pouring out so quickly they were hard to understand. "You're worrying about all the wrong things, Kurt. Trust me on this — none of us are in jeopardy. We're kinda superheroes! Our whole family is strong. Our only fear is losing you and Rachel."

"But why should you —?" Mercedes interrupted this time, touching my cheek with her cold dark fingers.

"It's been almost a century that Blaine's been alone. You have _no_ idea how much we've seen him change since he you arrived. Do you think any of us want to look into his eyes for the next hundred years if that boy loses you?"

My guilt slowly subsided as I looked into her eyes. But, even as the calm spread over me, I knew I couldn't trust my feelings with Sam there.

It was a very long day.

We stayed in the room. Mercedes called down to the front desk and asked them to ignore our maid service for now. The windows stayed shut, the TV on, though only Sam watched it, keen to study the actors and further his impression techniques. At regular intervals, food was delivered. The silver phone resting in Mercedes' bag seemed to grow bigger as the hours passed. Rachel had woken sometime around midday but was in the bathroom for an hour and a half and ate her food in her room and talked to no one. Not even me.

"I'm sorry, Kurt. I know this is hard on you too but I just want to be alone."

So I left her alone. Drama Queen.

Sam and Mercedes were handling the situation very well. As I fidgeted and paced, they simply grew more still, two statues whose eyes followed me imperceptibly as I moved. They were relaxed, happy and able to joke with one another but stared at me as though I might break. Mercedes would duck out the room ever so often to check on Rachel. I occupied myself with memorizing the room and imagined all the ways I could redecorate it; the striped pattern of the couches, tan, peach, cream, dull gold, and tan again. Not a great combination. So I imagined I had an unlimited budget and pictured what the room would do with a unique Kurt Hummel makeover the same way I used to do when I was a child.

As the afternoon wore on, I went back to bed, simply for something to do. Rachel said nothing as I crawled under the sheets beside her. She mightn't have wanted to talk but the way she was stroking my hair told me enough.

"Rachel?" I tried, not sure if she would even respond.

"Yeah?"

I kept my voice very calm. "What do you think they're doing? All the guys back at Forks?"

"Well Mr. Cullen wanted to lead Jesse as far north as possible, wait for him to get close, and then turn and ambush him. Emma and Quinn were supposed to head west as long as they could keep Sebastian behind. If Sebastian turned around, they were to head back to Forks and keep an eye on our Dads. So I imagine things are going well if they can't call. It means Jesse is close enough that they don't want him to overhear."

"And Emma?"

"I think she must be back in Forks. She won't call if there's any chance Sebastian will overhear. I expect they're all just being very careful."

"Do you think they're all safe? Like for real?"

"I trust the Cullens."

"Would you tell _me_ the truth, though?"

"Yes. I will always tell you the truth." Her voice was earnest. "You're my best friend, Kurt."

I deliberated for a moment, and then decided she meant it.

"Why did you tell your dads you were leaving?" My question caught her off guard. She became quiet. And then she sighed.

"I told them that I was going to find my mom… that I wished I had one my whole life and that it was their fault that I didn't."

"Oh… _Rachel_."

"The thing is, Kurt, they… _agreed_. They said they should have never denied me the right to have her in my life and were selfish to think they could provide me with everything I needed. They had only kept her away because they were scared they were going to lose me or that she would get too attached to me, or I to her, and not hold her end of the deal to stay away. But the thing is - that's not true. I _never_ needed a mom. Not with my dads around. _They_ were all I ever needed. And I had to lie to them and bring their biggest insecurities to surface because Jesse St James—"

"Jesse Saint sucks?" I offered and she giggled.

Our heartwarming moment was short-lived though. Without any warning, Mercedes shot into the room, her eyes wide and frightened. My head jerked up as I stared at her, startled.

"Something's changed." Her voice was urgent and Sam was by her side in an instant. He put his hands on her shoulders and guided her to the edge of where Rachel and I were sitting.

"What do you see?" he asked intently, staring into her eyes. Her eyes were focused on something very far away. I crawled over to sit closer to her, leaning into catch her low, quick voice.

"I see a room. It's long, and there are mirrors everywhere. The floor is wooden. Jesse is in the room, and he's waiting. There's gold… a gold stripe across the mirrors."

"Where is the room?"

"I don't know. Something is missing — another decision hasn't been made yet."

"How much time?"

"It's soon. He'll be in the mirror room today, or maybe tomorrow. It all depends. He's waiting for something. And he's in the dark now."

Sam's voice was calm, methodical, as he questioned her in a practiced way. "What is he doing?"

"He's watching TV… no, he's running a VCR, in the dark, in another place."

"Can you see where he is?"

"No, it's too dark."

"And the mirror room, what else is there?"

"Just the mirrors, and the gold. It's a band, around the room. And there's a black table with a big stereo, and a TV. He's touching the VCR there, but he doesn't watch the way he does in the dark room. This is the room where he waits." Her eyes drifted, then focused on Sam's face.

"There's nothing else?" She shook her head. They looked at each other, motionless.

"What does it mean?" I asked.

Neither of them answered for a moment, then Sam looked at me.

"It means Jesse's plans have changed. He's made a decision that will lead him to the mirror room, and the dark room."

"But we don't know where those rooms are?"

"No."

"But we do know that he won't be in the mountains north of Washington, being hunted. He'll elude them." Mercedes' voice was bleak.

"Should we call?" I asked. They traded a serious look, undecided.

And the phone rang.

Mercedes was across the room before I could lift my head to look at it.

She pushed a button and held the phone to her ear, but she didn't speak first.

"Will," she breathed. She didn't seem surprised or relieved, the way I felt.

"Yes," she said, glancing at me. She listened for a long moment.

"I just saw him." She described again the vision she'd seen. "Whatever made him get on that plane… it was leading him to those rooms." She paused.

"Yes," Mercedes said into the phone, and then she spoke to me.

"Kurt?" She held the phone out toward me. I ran to it. "Hello?" I breathed.

"Kurt," Blaine said.

"Oh, Blaine! I was so worried."

"Kurt," he repeated my name, "I told you not to worry about anything but yourself and Rachel." It was so unbelievably good to hear his voice.

"Where are you?"

"We're outside of Vancouver. Kurt, I'm sorry — we lost him. He seems suspicious of us — he's careful to stay just far enough away that I can't hear what he's thinking. But he's gone now — it looks like he got on a plane." I could hear Mercedes filling in Sam behind me, her quick words blurring together into a humming noise.

"I know. Mercedes saw that he got away."

"You don't have to worry, though. He won't find anything to lead him to you. You just have to stay there and wait till we find him again."

"I'll be fine. Is Emma with Burt?"

"Yes — Sebastian has been in town. He went to the house, but while Burt was at work. He hasn't gone near him, so don't be afraid. Burt is safe with Emma and Quinn watching."

"And Hiram and Leroy Berry?"

"They're safe too."

"What is Sebastian doing?"

"Probably trying to pick up the trail. He's been all through the town during the night. Quinn traced him through the airport, all the roads around town, the school… he's digging, Kurt, but there's nothing to find."

"And you're sure Burt's safe?"

"Yes, Emma won't let him out of her sight. And we'll be there soon. If Jesse gets anywhere near you, we'll have him."

"I miss you," I whispered.

"I miss you too. It's like you've taken half of me away with you."

"Come and get it, then," I challenged.

"Soon, as soon as I possibly can. I _will_ make you safe first." His voice was hard. "I love you so much, Kurt."

"I love you too," I reminded him.

I turned to give the phone back to Mercedes and found her sketching on a piece of hotel stationery. Rachel and Sam were leaning over the coffee table trying to make out the picture.

I leaned on the back of the couch, looking over her shoulder.

She drew a room: long, rectangular, with a thinner, square section at the back. The wooden planks that made up the floor stretched lengthwise across the room. Down the walls were lines denoting the breaks in the mirrors. And then, wrapping around the walls, waist high, a long band.

"It's a ballet studio," Rachel said, familiarity hitting her like a scientist with a light bulb above his head.

We all looked at her, surprised.

"Do you know this room?" Sam's voice sounded calm, but there was an undercurrent of something I couldn't identify. Mercedes bent her head to her work, her hand flying across the page now, the shape of an emergency exit taking shape against the back wall, the stereo and TV on a low table by the front right corner.

"It looks like a place I used to go for dance lessons when I was four or five. I spent years rehearsing there. It was shaped just the same." She touched the page where the square section jutted out, narrowing the back part of the room. "That's where the bathrooms were — the doors were through the other dance floor. But the stereo was here" — She pointed to the left corner — "it was older, and there wasn't a TV. There was a window in the waiting room — you would see the room from this perspective if you looked through it."

Mercedes and Sam were staring at her. "Are you sure it's the same room?" Sam asked, still calm.

"No, not at all — I suppose most dance studios would look the same — the mirrors, the _barre_." She traced her finger along the ballet bar set against the mirrors. "It's just the shape that looks familiar."

"Would you have any reason to go there now?" Mercedes asked.

"No, I haven't been there in almost ten years. Not since we moved to Forks."

"So there's no way it could be connected with you?" Mercedes asked intently. "Or Kurt?"

"Well, no, I don't even think the same person owns it. I'm sure it's just another dance studio, somewhere. What about you Kurt?"

"I never took dancing lessons," I said. "Rachel, where was the studio that you used to go to?"

"It was just around the corner from our house. I used to walk thereafter school…" She said, my voice trailing off as she quickly made calculations based on the way Mercedes and Sam were looking at her.

"So it was here in Ohio, then?" Sam asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "On Pioneer Road, about a three minute walk from Elida Public School where I attended."

We all sat in silence, staring at the drawing.

Immortality must grant endless patience. Neither Sam nor Mercedes seemed to feel the need to do anything at all. For a while, Mercedes sketched the vague outline of the dark room from her vision, as much as she could see in the light from the TV. But when she was done, she simply sat, looking at the blank walls. Sam, too, seemed to have no urge to pace, or peek through the curtains, or run screaming out the door, the way Rachel or I did. I could feel her negative energy escalating from her and it was doing nothing to calm my nerves.

~.~

**A/N**: In all seriousness, if you guys are looking for updates or story stats please follow me at paperstylehearts dot tumblr dot com

Twenty percent random, and eighty percent glee, I will also post blog about updates. ;)

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